NOW I’m no fashion expert and what I know about the latest trends you could write on a silk handkerchief and pop it in my top pocket. And I know that’s not a fashionable thing to do for a start.

But I couldn’t help but notice in my colleague Hilarie Stelfox’s fashion page last week that the predominant colours for the autumn winter fashion scene is ... monochrome. Now that’s black and white to all the blokes out there with the exception of Gok Wan.

So when we have the dark, depressing, damp and dreary days in November – a bit like we’re enduring endlessly now – don’t expect it to be brightened up with big bold splashes of colour.

In fact, the more fashion conscious among us will be camouflaged into the weather. What you can expect is the sale rails in the shops in deep midwinter packed with all the summer stock that’s hanging on them now, unsold, unloved and out of synch with what is laughingly known as summer. I can hardly bring myself to even say the word anymore.

So what happened to all the big fashion statements that used to sum up the era in which we lived – the smart and chic 60s, the sheer zaniness of the 70s and the glam 80s.

The only one that really had an impact on me was the 70s when I embraced some of its ridiculousness as I was at school at the time and I’d have been dismissed as a nerd if I hadn’t.

The most abiding memory from that time was what I knew as ‘tapper kecks’. That’s farcically baggy trousers with a high waistband. Most people had three buttons but the ‘harder’ you were at school the more buttons you had and the toughest lad in school had no less than six. You didn’t mess with someone proudly displaying six buttons. In fact, you didn’t even look at him at all in case he got the crazy idea you were ‘looking at him in a funny way’.

And what better way to set off your silly trousers than with a pair of 70s platform shoes. Clunky, ugly and impossible to walk in. Perfect for the job.

And as for the torso, I was the proud owner of the ultimate 70s jumper. Bright blue with a big white star on the front and a couple of smaller stars to keep it company and two red lines down both sleeves with more little stars in between them. And that was how to look cool in the long hot summer (there, I’ve said the word) in 1976.

But no 70s look could have been complete without the 70s hairstyle. I was lucky in that I went to Giovanni’s down at the bottom of Trinity Street. The hours I spend queuing in there staring at the photos of early 70s icons around the little barber’s shop. All seemed to have long hair which I found strange, as most of those walking out of Giovanni’s had ‘smart’ haircuts, and you couldn’t but help imagine that even George Best would have left with one too, no matter what he asked for.

The unlucky ones had their hair cut at home with a handy household implement – usually a basin – to give it some shape if not exactly style.

The less fortunate souls had parents who went freestyle with all the skills and panache of a sheep shearer wearing sunglasses at night. And the photographs of the results would haunt their mantelpieces for years to come.

OK, the 70s were a bad fashion joke but at least you remembered them. The years after the 90s seem to have merged together with nothing particularly to laugh at. And surely isn’t that what fashion’s all about?