Shoulders: The edge of reason?

Fashion's a whimsical beast. Every season, designers reclaim and celebrate a body part that 'defines' the essence of what it means to be a woman. The navel (Tone it! Show it!); the spine (Lean! Leaner!); the ankle (Wrap it! Strap it!), and so on. Elbows? Currently being revisited. Wrists? Yet to make a comeback. Buttocks? Alaia, je t'aime. And yet for several years, it would appear that the humble (albeit, anatomically necessary) shoulder has remained de rigueur - the first and last bastion of statement style.

From whence did this come, one may ask? All signs point to the hallowed house of Balmain, or rather, its brilliant rock 'n roll estheticien, Christophe Decarnin. Sure, the shoulder has done its tour of puffed-up duty in the past (Dynasty, anyone?), and yet it took a Frenchman to revisit this '80's relic, rescue it from the dress-up box, sharpen the scissors and get to work on some serious reinvention for the 21st century. Teamed with distressed t-shirts (at an equally distressing price), lean trousers and even leaner supermodels, and lo and behold, the shoulder shook up the fashion world once again.

Problem? None, whatsover. My issue (as I'm sure it is with many) is that this elegant reinterpretation has filtered its way down the echelons of fashion to the global footpath, losing its tailored edge and shows no signs of waning to become, well, pedestrian. Firstly, let it be known right now that I wholeheartedly embrace the availability of trends to the masses - I, for one, could certainly never afford the super-luxe prices. For me, the issue lies in the all-too-numerous sightings of mantis-like fashionistas tottering their way along streets with shadow-casting shoulders, many often poorly tailored so that the overall effect is one of dulled impetus; the little shoulder that 'thinks it can' but which, sadly, very often can't.

There aren't too many looks that I'm sorry to see in the public domain (except, for humane reasons, the crack-loving g-string over the jean, the 'invisible' elastic bra straps beneath an evening dress, etc) and I have to admit being super-fond of the great Aussie 'trackie dack' (re-cut for '10) on a chilly day, but how I wish this obsession with the shoulder would give one almighty shrug and disappear into the back of the closet, perhaps only to be drawn out of sartorial retirement to take on the White Queen of Narnia in a battle of well-worn weaponry.

Now THAT would be something to see. Forget The Lion: This is The Witch and Her Wardrobe vs. an army of seriously shouldered jackets. My money's on the Balmain.