ANTI-WAIST MATTER (retro blog!)

To get this gig started, how about we spend a few days going back in time. Retro being all the rage these days, and what have you. If we’re revisiting old comic strips to make new movies, if we’re idolising celebrity folks who are long dead, well, I figure we can encore a few "What Women Think" columns from a bygone era, just to set the tone. So to speak.

Here’s an oldie, but a goodie! It was from 2006. It was very appropriate then. I haven't bought jeans for over a year, keep promising to when I lose 10kg etc etc etc.

Sometimes, when I'm watching re-runs of Kath & Kim, I get a bit nervous. Not because I'll start referring to my lounge room as "the good room". Not because of the sight of Kim's offensive g-string or the atrocious way she speaks to Brett.

It's Kath's high waisted jeans that scare the pants off me. They are seriously one of the ugliest fashion fallouts I've ever seen. Along with Peter Pan collars, bubble skirts and Whitney Houston.

I fear that high waists will again become a prime target on the fashion radar. That head Vogue-ette Anna Wintour will come back a bit pissed one day from lunch at The Plaza and think, "You know what would be funny? To send out an email to my mates Oscar, Cristóbal, Ralph, Caroline etc saying it's time to pull their designer pants up."

The fashion world follows La Wintour's advice the way the Pope follows Jesus. Religiously. Before we can say "where the bloody hell are you", Australian shops will boast piles of jeans, all with 25 centimetre long zips. I'm convinced style mavens will also insist we tuck in our tops.

Our shapely bums will be lost on a vast canvas of denim and our tummies, post partum or otherwise, will do that bulging thing making it look like we're masking a water feature or Roseanne Barr.

(Sorry Mischa, they don't do it for me.)

I'm the sort of girl who will sit in coffee shops and nudge my girlfriends while surreptitiously casting my eyes in the direction of a passing unfortunate who clearly hasn't been into Just Jeans since the mid 80s. She'll be wearing jeans that threaten to snuggle in under her armpits and that rudely stop just above her ankle. Teamed with high heels. Ouch.

We collectively mutter "can you b-e-l-i-e-v-e it?!" and sneak a look at the length of our own hems just to make sure there was no pot calling the hem length black hypocrisy.

(Sorry Jessica, that's not doing it for me either.)

Jeans are the cornerstone to most of my ensembles. Have been for years. Born in France and raised in America, denim jeans came of age in Australia when we realised they weren't the sole proprietary of jackaroos and The Fonz.

Wear them with a fitted white t-shirt and Dunlop Volleys, or a lace top and silver pointy toe stilettos. Wear them to work on a Friday with black ankle boots and a fawn coloured Witchery jersey top.

Just never ever wear them if they've got a high waist. I don't care how fabulous your silver pointy toe stilettos are.

I've got my hands on my hips about this one.