Look in the window of any upmarket girly chain store and it’s like you’ve suddenly been transported to turn-of-last-century rural Romania, only with better hair and without the donkeys. Yes ladies, this season, it’s all about the white middle-class gypsy/boho poseur!

Now, I don’t personally have anything against long tiered skirts and fiddly tops and crocheted shawls and ethnic wooden bangles, nor printed headscarves, because I love printed headscarves – in fact, any kind of headscarf is good, as is any kind of scarf at all come to think of it, though maybe that’s just me and my weird scarf fixation talking – but am I the only person who thinks this well-trodden fashion phenomenon has long since begun to border on the bloody ridiculous? When some pretty little band of chicklets is all decked out like they’re playing an expensive game of dress-ups, perversely swiping from the barrel of individuality for a sadly conformist idea, and NOBODY, nobody at all finds that really creepy? (“Point and laugh, children! Point and laugh!”) Those poor Romanian gypsies! They probably didn’t know what hit them when all the screaming teenage girls raided their closets. Next thing you know, they’ll have to resort to skinny jeans, Converse high tops and brightly coloured rubber wristbands.

Don’t even get me started on skinny jeans! Add that to the ever-growing list of clothing that nobody with hips or thighs or ordinary length legs can pull off. The problem is they look so good on six-foot pouting models and Mick Jagger (huh?) that the average girl deludes herself that she, too, can wear them. Hate to be a bitch, honey – but it just ain’t working. I’ve got to admit I was sorely tempted to try on a pair with the knowledge that once I tried them I’d be suckered into buying them, no questions asked. But alas, I resisted, remembering the cautionary tale of the denim pedal pushers (which no one with calves could ever wear), an omnipresent ‘fashion staple’ merely two seasons ago, which are now residing in an abandoned heap in the depths of a teenybopper’s closet. So passé. I think I’ll stick to my bootlegs, thanks.

Praise the lord, though, that I think we’ve finally seen the last of the eighties resurgence. Why anyone would want to put themselves through the traumatic experience of bad synth pop and high-cut spandex bodysuits (SOME things, thankfully, are NEVER making a comeback) a second time around is beyond me. Top Gun Ray-Bans and leg warmers I could almost deal with, but calf-length black leggings under miniskirts? AAAARRRGHHH!!!!

If you’re asking me (and no one is but I’ll keep talking anyway), just plain pretty will always be hot. I love the idea of shiny pink ribbons, flowery prints, and gossamer silks that sit next to your skin. A skirt that swirls when you spin around in circles. Pastels, rounded toes, a little lace and some frills. A totally pointless but utterly gorgeous scarf. The ultimate summer sunshine dress. Maybe next season black will be the new white, purple will be the new beige, orange will be the new shit-brown, or whatever. The full-on girly-girl thing emerges in a scary explosion of pastel pink every now and then, but Pretty is one look that never dates. At least you’ll never be caught in last season’s skinny jeans or soon-to-be-over tribal skirt. And hey, everyone’s conforming to something, whether it is so-in-it-hurts ethnic gypsy or purposely disaffected emo goth-punk, so what’s the harm of looking timelessly good while you’re at it?

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