For months now, a resounding, slightly rude message has been following me everywhere I go: skinny jeans are out.
It whispers in my ear when I'm at Westfield, spilling out from the shop windows. Skinny jeans are not cool anymore, lady, says the disembodied voice. We don't care that you've spent the better part of a decade buying the exact same style of jeans in slightly different colours. Gen Z somehow gained a weird amount of power and turned fashion on its head.
I see.
When I'm out with friends, the voice gets louder. It's not just capitalism that's sh*tting on my choices, it's the subtle messaging from everyone around me. Non-skinny jeans have a... vibe, in that they're silently communicating that they're better than you. I don't need to be tight to be flattering, they say. Am I even flattering? Maybe I don't even care.
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