Fashion trends come and go, and then there are some that arrive and take over the entire country. They leave future generations wondering if everyone had collectively lost their minds.
What were we thinking?
Back in the 1960s and 1970s, there was the great flared trousers explosion. If you lived through that era, you’ll remember trousers that weren’t just flared; they were enormous. Trousers so wide at the ankles that simply riding a bicycle became a public safety hazard.
Flares, or, if you were American, bell-bottoms, started off as quite modest things. A gentle widening at the trouser hem, influenced by naval uniforms of the past.
The fashion actually went back a couple of hundred years in history, but then 1960s pop culture caught on. The hippie movement adopted them. Jimi Hendrix, the Beatles, and Cher often wore them. They were not the only ones, as flares became not just a fashion statement but a symbol of self-expression and rebellion.
Like many innocent ideas, they escalated. By the mid-1970s, it seemed the national objective was to create trousers so wide at the ankles that they could double as a tent. As teenagers, we strutted down every street and road in trousers that resisted the slightest breeze. On really windy days, you could get blown away. If the weather forecast was for gale-force winds, it was better to stay indoors.
The width varied from person to person, but there was a competition for the widest.
“Mine are 22-inch bottoms,” someone would boast.
“Oh yeah?” Another would say, “Mine are 26.”
Before long, hems had reached levels that you could make a pair of curtains out of them. Some flares were so big they would cover your shoes, creating a strange gliding illusion, as if you were floating along.
But we wanted them — everyone wore flares — even our parents wore them in the seventies.
The only place that stuck with tradition and convention was my school. I remember that the trousers of the school uniform had to be straight-legged, not flared or tight-fitting — just straight. Fashion didn’t come into it. If you turned up in flares, you could expect a visit to the headmaster’s office and a letter hastily written by the school secretary, reminding parents of the dress code.
Flares came with their challenges, though. Fashion, of course, rarely considers practicality. They looked the part — especially when glam rock came along in the 1970s. But paired with platform shoes, they introduced one significant complication for anyone who relied on pedal power: the enemy known as the bike chain.
If your flares brushed anywhere near the spinning gears of your Raleigh Chopper or racing bike, disaster loomed. The chain would grab hold of your trouser leg like a little terrier. There’d be a split second of resistance, followed by a sudden, wrenching stop that risked sending you flying over the handlebars. The potential for injury, as well as torn trousers, was high.
And those trousers could be expensive.
Commercially, they were a great success. The mass-produced versions made big money for retailers like C&A, Chelsea Girl, or the local market stall. Jeans, satin and polyester ruled.
But, if we wanted to avoid the squeal of fabric being dragged into oily machinery on our bikes, then preventative action was necessary. Cycle clips could save the day and your best trousers. The old cycle clip — metallic bands that snapped firmly around your ankles — was effective but uncool. But it was better than tucking your trousers into your socks.
Still, the fashion persisted. Why? Because flares became more than just trousers, they were a joyful celebration of the era. They filled the dance floor with movement. John Travolta took flares to another level when he danced in Saturday Night Fever. They became central to glam rock and disco and the tail end of flower power. Flares were freedom, even if they did occasionally try to kill you when out cycling.
But, beyond the nostalgia, there were some hard truths about flairs, and not just when it came to riding a bike. Damp fabric was a recurring misery. Mud splashed up the back and inside your legs. And when winter arrived, those flares acted like an arctic blast up your trousers. They were definitely made for summer, not for when it was cold.
By the mid-to late 1970s, the tide was beginning to turn. Straight legs and then drainpipes came back with punk, worn by bands like The Clash, Stranglers and Ramones. This ushered in a new era where the width of trousers was no longer measured in feet but in millimetres. Flares were relegated to the backs of wardrobes or found their way to the local charity shop. Some of us were forced into buying a whole new wardrobe.
The shops did well.
Of course, fashions continue to go in and out of style and make an occasional comeback.
The 1990s and 2000s saw their own revival. And today, wide legs and flares have resurfaced once again. Not to the same extent as in the 1970s, but proving that nothing in the world of fashion ever truly disappears, flares are still around.
Perhaps somewhere right now, a teenager is accidentally feeding the hem of their trousers into a bike chain — but don’t forget your cycle clips.
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Photo by Documerica on Unsplash
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