The wow-factor has gone horribly wrong in the 2021 fashion trend I just won’t do

If there was a movie about 2021 women’s fashion, it would be called, Attack of the Killer Sleeves. Look around you, fashionistas all over this city are being menaced from ear to ear by gigantic killer sleeves: their tiny smiling heads wedged between two oversized lampshades or buttressed between an aggressive pair of powder puffs. I’m not averse to a gentle pouffe to give one’s shoulders some oomph but the 2021 puff has a dangerous head-eating quality to it.

I have a standard refrain for when a salesperson tries to talk me into a top or dress that has dramatically fashionable sleeves. I say: “I’m sorry, I don’t do silly sleeves.”

Giant sleeves are in vogue - unfortunately.Credit: AP

I’ve had to say this a lot recently because sleeves are now on steroids. The lampshades, the power puffs, the dramatic Quasimodo bells. I’m sure it’s all designed for a bit of wow factor but ladies, the clothes are beginning to wear you instead of the other way around.

Along with the head-eating puffs and the portable lampshades, there’s also what I like to call “The Shapeshifting Trickster”, or the droopy boob gourd shape; it starts out as a normal fitted sleeve and then it balloons into a gourd for a late run at silliness.

I’ve also been seeing a return to Henry VIII’s sleevery of choice: the mutton sleeve. And, I’m not sure we should be looking to the Tudors for fashion inspiration. What’s next? Velveteen bloomer pantaloons? Frill-necked lizard collars? It’s a slippery slope.

The tulip sleeve is elegant but impractical.Credit: Donna Demaio

But my pet hate on the killer sleeve spectrum is the extreme Elvira tulip sleeve: they’re the sleeves with trumpet horns on the end that sometimes – if the garment is truly high fashion – drip halfway to the floor like something in a Dali painting. And sure, they’re elegant … if you’re standing with your arms out at right angles all night. But there’s nothing elegant about dipping your sleeves into other people’s pasta every time you gesticulate.

Which is why the greatest moment in women’s sleevery (IMHO) was an unassuming shift toward the practical. I’m talking about the early ’90s popularisation of the three-quarter sleeve. At the time I remember thinking, “That’s weird, it looks like my sleeves shrank in the wash.” But over time, three-quarter sleeves won my heart; they keep your ham hocks covered but you can still do stuff without scuffing your cuffs.

But silly sleeves? Killer sleeves? No, thank you. I don’t want to be going about my day and have someone say to me, “Hey, nice sleeves!” That’s my day ruined.