They say that necessity breeds invention, and few needs are more urgent than keeping one’s trousers up. Though it might sound hilarious, I’ve always found that waddling around with your chinos round your ankles is a surefire way to be kicked out of the post office or John Lewis. And invention has responded admirably to this need. We have belts, elastic, a variety of fly configurations, not to mention the classic technique of getting trousers that ‘fit’.
Pray then someone tell my why anybody sees fit to perpetuate braces, or suspenders to our American friends - the most sinister of all trouser accoutrements. Serving no practical purpose since the chimney sweeps from Mary Poppins (more on them later), their appearance, usually down the front of portly pinstriped city bankers, says a number of things: I am wealthy. My trousers shall not full down today. I own no mirrors. Most emphatically, however, it states: I if I just slip my thumbs under these thin strips of material, I shall be exposing myself to you. Underneath by well-fed exterior, I am a deeply shady individual. They inspire in the viewer nothing but the prickly sense of imminent molestation. Make no mistake - suspenders/braces are deeply, deeply sinister. Suspect on sight.
Attic Rating: 6.5/10
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