The idea that flared jeans are making a return filled me with delight – that was, until I recalled crashing my bike into a hearse. Last year, after attempting to cycle a sharp corner, my bell-bottom jeans lodged themselves in my bike chain, and I skidded into the offending vehicle (or should I say, the offending omen).

Fear not – I was perfectly uninjured (except for the wound to my dignity). Nevertheless, having quite literally stared death in the face as I made eye contact with the funeral driver, I vowed that I would never dare to flare again.

Recently reflecting on this incident, I began pondering: are certain trouser choices inherently risky? Were there more bicycle accidents in the 1970s? For a period so big on their bell-bottoms, surely the streets of Cambridge must have been fraught with crashes. I mean, just imagine cycling through the centre on a weekend and trying not to collide with any tourists, except with the added difficulty of everyone wearing giant trousers. And as it turns out, I’m correct! Well, sort of. That’s right: statistics show that there were indeed far more cycling accidents in the 70s than today, although most likely as a result of the U.S ‘Bike Boom’ and initial helmet designs being nothing more than hats. Despite this, I can’t imagine the dominance of flares particularly helped the situation. Correlation doesn’t always equal causation, of course, but those pesky flares surely had at least something to do with it…

“I think most of us picture a groovy-looking individual in sandals and a flower crown, and we forget the radical politics behind the fashion”

Don’t get me wrong: I can’t dispute that bell-bottoms are a brilliant silhouette, comfortable and quite the classic look. The first iteration of the flare actually arrived in the 19th century, worn by American sailors, and young people only adopted them by the time the 60s rolled around. These days, when we imagine flares (especially the huge, extreme ones), I think most of us picture a groovy-looking individual in sandals and a flower crown, and we forget the radical politics behind the fashion. After all, before they made their way into the mainstream, a bit of a flare on the bottom of your trousers was a big-time anti-war statement.

But while this is objectively great symbolism, they’re not exactly a practical decision when your only manner of transport involves huffing, puffing and pedalling. All very well if you’ve somehow formed an unwavering trust in the U-bus, but every time I have found myself in impractical clothing saying, “Let’s just wait another 20 minutes, I swear it has to turn up eventually…,” I’ve regretted not simply putting on a more boring pair of slacks and braving the exercise.

“More than once, I have returned to college looking like I’ve been savaged en route by a rabid animal”

Especially as a Girtonian cyclist, I empathise with this internal conflict between fun fashion choices and the desire not to crash into a wall (or a hearse, if you’re like me). But I’m sure you don’t even need to be from Girton to understand the struggle, as even shorter distances can tatter your trousers. Bike oil, holes, entire sections of clothing ripped away: more than once, I have returned to college looking like I’ve been savaged en route by a rabid animal. And it’s not just me: a friend of mine once had to pause on our way to a formal to untangle a large, slashed portion of their dress from their front wheel. The bike turned up at the formal looking more dressed up than they were. Not really what you want, is it?

Longer fabric generally appears to be an issue, then. No wonder bell-bottoms are risky. Which brings me to the big, important question at hand: how do we balance practicality with style?

I realise that may sound like a tedious question (safety? Boring!) but hear me out for a moment: I am a firm believer that practical doesn’t have to be unanimous with ‘mind-numbing’.

Obviously, you could just swap out your funky new jeans for something with less flair (yes, the pun is intentional). Or perhaps the ‘roll-and-tuck’ method is more your move: cycling with one trouser leg halfway up your calf has never looked so good. If you’re really desperate, you could even invest in special cycling ankle straps to hold back the tide of trousers. I have to admit, I did buy some myself, but I don’t recall having ever used them, and they’ve since disappeared into the ether.

I do think it’s probably better to take precautions in the face of the hearse (that isn’t a morbid metaphor, I promise, just a note from personal experience). So while flares might be returning back into our wardrobes, they perhaps have yet to make it onto our bikes…