Nineteen Ten, off to war, uniforms, epilates are our current de-rigour.
Twenties, top hat and tails, monocle for effect, we hit the dance floor.
Thirties, depression reigns, big brogues and austere browns all round.
Forties, to war again, camouflage essential as we all hug the ground.
Fifties, heavy grey de-mob suit, white shirt, brylcreem and razors.
Sixties, winkle pickers, paisley shirts under striped boating blazers.
Seventies, the smell of Brut, long hair, Birmingham bags, wide lapels.
Eighties, double breasted power, braces, Givenchy our special smell.
Nineties, single breasted, open collar shirt, tie is now an abomination.
Noughties, Apple generation, trainers, jeans, shirt, nasty combination.
Two tens, skinny trousers, bushy beards, tattoos and deck shoes rule.
The future, armour yet to be defined, what was cool will soon be fool.
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This poem is narrated by Lorraine Ansell, a British female voiceover professional.