Theyyy'rrreee baaaackkkk!!!

So, I was shopping in one of those young person's shops the other day. You know, the ones that you frequented in your late teens, and occasionally wander into these days in the vain hope you'll be able to squeeze your arse into something, and then end up leaving in disgust after being aurally assaulted by something the foetus behind the counter explains to you is "music". She is, of course, unable to look at you while she's explaining this, as she is obviously getting paid to send inane texts to her equally moronic friends (a big hello to 75% of the shop assistants on Chapel Street!). Anyway, so I wandered into the shop, and hanging quite boldly on the rack was a relic from my past I never thought any fashion designer would be stupid enough to revisit, no matter how desperate for inspiration. It pains me to type this, but the BODYSUIT IS BACK.

One part-top, one-part leotard, and seven parts totally impractical, the Bodysuit enjoyed a brief period of popularity in the mid-to-late eighties, when, inspired by the shenanigans of the "Kids From Fame" and Jennifer Beals in "Flashdance", we all thought it would be handy to wear one under our jeans. You know, just in case we had to bust out a group dance in the street in New York City, or impress a stuffy panel at a ritzy dance school with the moves we learnt from our night-time gig at a strip joint.

If you've never had the pleasure of wearing a bodysuit, it's basically like those little one-sy suits that babies wear. It looks like a top on the top, but - and here's the thing - it snaps together with some little clasps right over your lady parts. Now, that's totally fine if you're under a year old. You're not terribly worried about where and when you do your toileting, and you've got a responsible adult to do it back up for you after you're done.

Not so if you're all grownup and you have to do it yourself. Of course, most of us mere mortals have a great deal of difficulty actually seeing between our legs. So doing one of those suckers up is hard work. It's like doing up a bra times one hundred. Add alcohol, and the degree of difficulty rises significantly, and god help you if you happen to "have the painters in". It's a recipe for disaster!

And another thing...they're damned uncomfortable. I should know, as I attempted to rock a white one for a few brief months in year ten. After a rather vigorous attempt at imitating Lady Miss Kier in the film clip for "Groove Is In The Heart", I thought I was gonna have to have the thing surgically removed. They. Are. Not. Fun.

I feel like grabbing kids as they hover towards the bodysuits, and shaking them and yelling "DON'T DO IT! I WAS ONCE LIKE YOU!". But they probably wouldn't hear me over the music.