The older I get, the more I value fashion that is functional.However nice the fabric, however flattering the cut, what good is a blazer without internal chambers for a wallet and phone? And don’t get me started on the abomination that are skinny jeans, a trouser category foisted upon our vulnerable circulation systems by an industry prone to sadism and shaming.You can either use a spatula and industrial lubricant to squeeze your thighs into spray-on denim or you can sheepishly ask the clerk to fetch you something from a dusty shelf marked “Comfort” or “Traditional.” So you can be stylish or you can accept that your “Relaxed” and “Vintage” body is forbidden from partaking in about 94 per cent of all new trends that value agony over comfort, form over function.You ever try to jam a fob into the pocket of skinny jeans? It can’t be done. Not unless you plan to stand all day, not cry out in pain and never again open your front door.The crazy part is that, as a species, we now carry more objects while out and about than at any time in recorded history: keys, gadgets, water bottles, sunglasses, bags, lotions, mints, chargers. But evolution is lagging behind lifestyle. The truth is, we need eight octopus arms. We need kangaroo pouches. We need bovine digestive tracts that would allow us to swallow possessions and then regurgitate as needed: “Hang on, officer, I need to put my finger down my throat to get my licence. I know I put it in one of my four stomachs this morning.”Or, alternatively, fashion can give its snobbish head a shake and help ease our quotidian burdens by forging new corporate super brands that combine street style with garments so functional you’ll be the envy of all your friends — even if you suddenly bear a striking resemblance to a ham sandwich.Yes, in what is either another sign of the apocalypse or the most brilliant idea since Omarosa decided to secretly record her ...
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