Linda Kennedy - Not time to fly the white trouser of surrender at half-mast just yet

Published on Wednesday 27 August 2008 19:36

TOWARDS the end of summer you can see a courageous platoon of fashion warriors.

Less Black Watch, more White Swatch. These are women who have put on their white trousers. Shops may be putting brown and tweed ranges out, Vogue has new-season trends on its cover, but in many wardrobes lurk that August fashion staple: the virgin pair of white trousers. Forget the white elephant in the room that no-one mentions. The white trousers in the wardrobe that no-one has worn are worse.

The White Swatch aren't taking this sitting down (just in case that bench might be dirty). These warriors are the inappropriately white-trousered, who have decided "what the hell". And ladies, I salute you. To put up a white flag indicates surrender. To put on white trousers is an act of bravery.

There's probably one day a year which is 'white trouser definite' and on that day the only pair of pants that works with your white trousers will be dirty. Most days brighten up around 5pm, but by then it seems silly to change.

White trousers confirm what paint manufacturers say, which is there are many shades of white. Farrow & Ball perhaps have not heard of "bedroom white" – the colour trousers seem – and "outside the front door" white – the glaring shade trousers become when exposed to natural light.

Then there is the shoe-mate issue. What shoes do you put with white trousers? A white shoe makes you look like a nurse. A black shoe is too much of a contrast, and anyone giving you the once-over will get a shock. A shoe carefully co-ordinated with your top is trying too hard. A neutral shoe, clearly, is what's required. Do you have any neutral shoes? Me neither.

So, with all these issues, why do we buy them, these white trousers? Triumph of hope over weather? On the basis of self-fulfilling fashion prophecy? "If we wear them, the sun will come out." Who knows, but if the British Retail Consortium did a survey on how much women waste on unworn white trousers every year, we would probably turn pale.

I say we organise a White Trouser Ball. Dress Code: "Little White Trousers." Then we can look our white trousers in the eye and say: "I've had you. I got my money's worth."

Come September, let's chuck them all out and create an EU white trouser mountain. Hope it's located near the red wine lake. Fingers crossed for an earthquake. They will then be unwearable and the problem, ladies, is out of our hands.

Queue tips for girls

ALCOHOL encourages a very British trait to be abandoned. Queuing. In pubs, queues turn to scrums in which blokes use a secret Y-chromosome code to get the barman's attention. Desperate for attention, I feel overlooked and resentful, like Hillary Clinton in Denver. I wonder about a ticket system, like those once used by housewives at the butchers. Drinkers would take a number and sit. A display would indicate "now serving ticket 48", whereupon the designated walker of your party would go up. Pub culture needs feminising in more ways than just serving Shiraz by the glass. We've had the gastropub. It's time for the girliepub.

Passive smoking?

I'm more worried about passive sniffing. Sit in a suburban train heading to the big city on a Saturday night, and witness mass applications of hairspray. The canisters have blunderbuss nozzles and diameters to match the squirters' arms (on display because it's only August and no need for a jacket, a rule that also holds true in December). TopShop might do well to manufacture a giant canister with a strap: teenage girls would embrace the new hairspray shoulder-bag. Within a stop, the air starts to thin and other passengers are inhaling extra-firm hold. Within two stops, fresh air is at a premium, smog is forming, it feels like Beijing now the Olympics are over. Either that or I was as high as the hair. Told you it was time to worry.