There, I said it. If you'd told me a couple of years ago that I'd even own a pair of leggings, let alone find myself extolling the virtues of said eighties throwbacks on a publicly accessible forum, I would have been mildly insulted. But now I'm hooked.

It's not just leggings either. Search the Dorothy Perkins site and you'll find many variations on a theme. Jeggings (leggings that look like jeans) and Treggings (leggings that, you guessed it, look like trousers) being a couple of them.

If you look at the Simply Be website there's a legging for all occasions, my personal favourites being the leggings with gold buttons on the ankles, because for some reason they are a thicker material than standard leggings and you don't get the horrid 'see skin through stretchy material' problem. If you're especially brave you can opt for shiny and lacy leggings too. Plenty of skin showing through the lacy ones but at least you know that it's meant to.

Evans has quite possibly got my favourite leggings though. Leggings with a diamante trim. Oh yes, I think I'm-a-gonna have to bag me a pair of those ready for Christmas parties. These totally and utterly appeal to my girly love of all things shiny and I *want* them.

Leggings and T-shirts were the staple housework uniform of the 1990s but I also remember wearing them to work with longline jackets and HIDEOUS popper-crotch bodies that were ubiquitous in the early 90s. I also had my mum in stitches yesterday telling her about how I wore one on a girls' night out to the classy establishment that was once called Hollywood's in Ipswich.

I was decked out in a long flowing skirt, black body and a sheer blouse over the top. I shudder at the thought of that ensemble but that's not the point. So I was a little bit under the influence and dancing on a podium with a random strange man, when I felt that feeling of dread as one by one all the poppers gave way in response to my energetic podium gyrations. Ahhhh, what the hell. I reasoned that I could get away with hopping down onto the dance floor and secreting myself in a dark corner, then surreptitiously reaching under the long skirt and doing them up. If I walked across to the ladies' the damn thing was only going to end up bunching up around my waist and I'd have to queue for ages.

Trouble was, I didn't do the surreptitious bit very well and the story of my indiscreet wardrobe malfunction still gets relayed to this day.

So, leggings = Yes. Bodies = "Never again in this lifetime sweetheart..."