A Prayer for Flares

Flares, was there anything else with more flair? Tapered tight at the waist then billowing out at the knees into conical hems. They hug the thighs and release at the ankles, complimenting your body then freeing it. You could fit a pair of combat boots under them and no one would know. In this era of skinny jeans, when a pair of flares walks past, I am always in awe of how the wearer pulls them off with such an air of grace. They don’t strut, they sashay, the back of the ankle hem glancing their shoe before floating back at the next step. Flares are basically two denim dresses acting as a pair of pants and so force a walk that is straight-backed, graceful yet confident.

I’m sure my crush on Donna from That 70’s Show as a kid had a bit to do with my love of the style (and red hair, incidentally). Being home sick from school, watching midday reruns of Charlie’s Angels and Starsky and Hutch my eyes were opened. As a child there was just the default straight option for pants. But now I saw these characters dancing, running and even high-kicking bad guys in these outrageous pants. I’m pretty sure the roomier flares made a high-kick easier, akin to wearing a roomy Gi for karate.

Flares just added something missing from a regular dull pair of jeans, the uniform of the worker, the miner, the lumberjack. These pants were now deliberately impractical, and so, fashionable. They would sweep up soot in a dark mine, the massive hems would get caught on your chainsaw in the forest. I’m sure there is an OHS manual from the 70’s detailing the industrial hazards of huge hems. Luckily the Angels never had to handle heavy machinery, just high kicking the episode’s ‘heavy’ into submission. Always room to tuck a firearm under the hems too, for a fly-looking spy.

On a rainy day, the floating hems get soaked in curb side puddles and festival mud unconstrained from your dry legs. Slowly the water wicks up your ankles, like a plant, saturating every cell of the denim. The heavier hems now don’t float, but splat against the skin. That just makes me respect the bravery of those who wear them in winter. The back is even straighter, the glutes clenched, to keep the jeans just that extra inch above the high-water mark. Having dry hems in the rain is like shirt on someone eating spaghetti bolognese, it’s just impressive.

Even Old Hollywood’s view of the future included them. In Futureworld, the ridiculous sequel to Westworld, the characters wore jumpsuits designed for life in space, with of course the regulation flare-outs at the bottom. Luckily the moon landing occurred before the 70’s or the astronauts may have had bell-bottom suits.

And the new range of fabric choices. Denim is the original look of course but tartan and corduroy are even more of a statement. As a constant attendee of music festivals, I’ve seen these new looks flare up, silver and sequinned odes by Millennials to the disco era. A new generation is falling in love, and hopefully not falling over themselves, with this style.

They seem to be making a comeback in tinsel town too. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, a celebration of the fashion trends coming up amongst celebrities in 1969, had them everywhere. I sometimes forgot to watch the actors act, so fascinated I was with their wardrobe. Pants are slowly, but surely, reversing their skinny tapers back to impractical, beautifully billowing ends. From futuristic to retro, they are always timeless.