In celebration of its imminent 30th anniversary, I've been reading The Secret Diary Of Adrian Mole for the first time since my teens. I'm not sure that the book's real hero isn't his mum, the fag-toting Pauline, a woman responsible for one of literature's greatest aphorisms: "The only thing more boring than listening to other people's dreams is listening to other people's problems." I was struck by the bit where Adrian starts angrily recording the days that have gone by without her wearing the green Lurex apron he bought her for Christmas. Like her mother-in-law's 100% acrylic cardigans she quietly uses as dusters, Lurex is clearly considered beyond the pale even in the suburban 80s Midlands.
Perhaps it's down to the technological advances in Lurex since then – it now features a softer six-micron film and comes in a range of styles, including the amazingly named space gimp yarn – but it has made its way from the back of Pauline's wardrobe to the menswear catwalk. Not just any catwalk: the Prada catwalk, which is a good indication that something akin to the polo shirt I'm wearing might make its way into Topman.
I thought it gave me the look of a flamboyant competitor in the Lakeside World Professional Darts championship, but then I suspect it might be aimed at younger gentlemen. Speaking as a preternaturally decrepit 40-year-old, I struggle to imagine the circumstance in which I'd wear anything sparkly, let alone a polo shirt. Readers closer to Adrian Mole's age might disagree, but I'm sticking with his mum's assessment.
