"Your clothes are hazardous!" screamed the headline on the news report I was reading, or at least words to that effect.
As I looked down at my ensemble and checked the evidence, I thought this a little harsh assessment of my hoodie and joggers combo which I wear for housework/exercise (OK, housework is my exercise).
I read on - it listed clothing apparently hazardous to our health, including skinny jeans, parka coats and high heels.
Now I can't comment on skinny jeans as I've never worn them - I'm more of a flare or a boot-cut person myself, adhering to the rules of fashion gurus such as Trinny and Susannah and more latterly Gok Wan.
Parkas likewise don't form part of my repertoire - but I do remember my brother having one in the 70s, complete with faux-fur trimmed hood. This could indeed have been a hazard - with the hood zip done right up it formed a 'snorkel' and meant when you turned your head while crossing the road, for example, you just looked inside your own hood instead of at potential dangers.
Which leads me to my nemesis - high heels. Thank goodness for 'grunge' in the early 90s which meant I could happily live in ten-hole Doc Martens for about five years.
But I can report that high heels can indeed be dangerous - I remember my primary school friend telling me about an accident which befell her older sister. She used to don a particularly fetching pair of platform espadrilles, with ribbons lacing up her legs - don't judge her too harshly, this was the 1970s.
She used to repeatedly fall off them, and in the end she sprained her ankle quite badly.
This was the final straw for her father, who was fed up of the injuries inflicted on his teenage daughter by the evil espadrilles of doom, and he promptly seized them and threw them into the Rayburn, where they smouldered for three days - at least that's the story we were told, our version of an urban myth, perhaps a rural rumour?!