I WATCHED a news item about fake tans this morning. Several young, overweight girls were convinced that looking orange was going to make them as desirable as Angelina Jolie.
As I laughed in my own superior way, I suddenly remembered what lengths I went to as a young woman to try to look like Charlotte Rampling or Farrah Fawcett - a bit difficult for a Devonian stumpwort. But I had a go at trying to force my reluctant body and its accoutrements into some semblance of "fashion".
There was the year of long, sleek hair which necessitated me ironing mine every morning to remove its slight waviness. Then curly hair came in and my hair was not wavy enough. I'd post a photo of me with my Afro perm if it wasn't so embarrassing but the picture above will give you some idea.
I tried fake nails for all of one week until I realised it was impossible to do anything with your hands while wearing plastic talons stuck on with some inadequate glue - such a waste of two perfectly good opposable thumbs.
There was the era of fake lashes, so thick and heavy that for a while I went around with my eyes half closed, bumping into things. I was later similarly ocularly handicapped with the long side fringe that covered one eye.
There was the spell of the chalk white face with white lipstick during which I looked like an escapee from a tuberculosis ward.
Do you remember wooden clogs? I was banned from wearing them in the house after stepping on my mother's toe while wearing several pounds of seasoned oak.
I've looked like Rowdy of the range with my fringed suede jacket and skirt and leather boots - I shudder to think how many poor cows gave their lives to make me look like a poor cow. I spent a few months looking like a man, with sharp trouser suits, shirt and tie and a few more months looking like a Stepford wife with long floral skirts and floppy-brimmed hat.
Then there was the power dressing era with shoulder pads so wide I could hardly get through the door - shoulder pads on a jacket with rolled up sleeves, of course. I could go on .... and on and on but my fashion phases and faux pas are too numerous to mention.
What were yours?