Leggings, treggings and legs
For me, leggings had their moment back in the 1980s, back when I was skinny enough not to look offensive in them. Usually then, I had scrunched-up “Fame!” (I’m gonna live forever!) leg-warmers artfully arranged at the bottom of the leggings and added a tasteful, if middle-aged, green, padded riding jacket up top.
Such was the fashion reality of being a pony mad 13-year-old in the early 80s.
Anyway, as you may know, leggings, jeggings (jeans-leggings) and treggings (trouser-leggings) have, along with the skinny jean (a “drainpipe” to those of a certain age), made somewhat of a come-back in recent years and, while I wouldn’t be seen dead in a pair of bona fide leggings unless they were peeping out from under a decent-length dress, I did find myself in GAP today, trying on a pair of what can only be described as treggings.
They were just Dhs 39 in the Ramadan, Summer Surprises we’re-desperate-to-move-the-stock super-sale, reduced from like a million Dirhams. And I can’t resist a bargain. On they slipped in the changing room.
“Oh,” said DD, lolling against the changing-room wall and injecting more surprise than I liked into her voice. “I like them.”
“Really?” I asked. 40-year-old in a skin-tight black tregging? Hmm.
“Yes, really,” she said. “Y’know, sometimes, mummy, it’s okay (she practically drew inverted commas in her speech) for ladies with fat thighs to wear leggings. I’ve seen some, and they look alright. So you should get them.”
Honest to god, when she’s 18 and fair game, I’ll get her back.