Now that your eyes have eventually scanned down the photograph to her lower half apparel, let’s talk about flares. Not the distress signals sent out by stricken mariners but the haute couture of many a teenager in the 60s and 70s. Cotton, polyester, wool, corduroy, leather, crushed velvet but mostly denim. Tight fitting from the hip to the knee before, as the name suggests, flaring out to hopefully cover the footwear, scuff on the ground and fashionably fray. A glimpse of ankle is certainly not the look you want.

Loon pants, bell bottoms, call them what you want were comparatively cheap and cheerful and certainly made a statement. They worked for our older brothers and sisters in the 60s with all that peace and love, hippy dippy stuff so they’ll work for us in the 70s kind of statement.

My first pair of flared denim jeans were probably quite conservative in their degree of flariness (!) I’d like to say they were Wranglers or Levi Strauss but I think they were Lees.

When I scrounged enough pocket money together, I headed straight to the ads section of the NME or Melody Maker for my first pair of loons.

They were mauve or purple, barely covered my bony hips ( I’m sure they lowered my sperm count by their tightness) until they blossomed out from the knee and draped down to my feet like a stage curtain. I think they lasted less than a season but I thought I looked the dogs bollocks – which was probably the view others were getting !

The width at the bottom covered your footwear so the vertically challenged could wear ridiculously high platform boots undetected. Jim, the lead singer in my band was one such devotee so much so that he looked like he was walking on stilts. The fact he was constantly hammered made for an interesting stage presence. People thought he was channelling Joe Cocker when he was really doing his damnedest to stay upright !

My dearest Mama endeavoured to help me in my sartorial splendour by stitching in a triangular insert to enlarge and enhance my well worn corduroys. If only the fashion world had listened.

A variation of the flare was the Oxford Bag, loved by Northern Soul dancers and Bowie’s Young Americans alike. A multi buttoned waistband up to just under your nipples and one almighty flare thereafter. Many were airborne on a blustery day.

There comes a time in a young man’s life when one must move with the times and that time was the mid 70s. Punk was rearing it’s ugly head and denim was being replaced by bin liner. I reluctantly made the decision to forgo the flare and embrace the straight leg. I bit the bullet. It was like going from full sail to hard core bondage. The vice like grip on my unfettered calves. I needed a safe word !

Thankfully these days I wear shorts for 8 months of the year and tracky dacks (track suit trousers) for the remainder of the year. Fashion lost out to function many years ago.

I just don’t have the flare for it !

(Post by John Allan, from Bridgetown, Western Australia – December 2025.)