I am not done with dungarees

'What, these old things?'

Every now and then I wake up with a sudden and absolute urge to buy a particular piece of clothing. This often leads to disaster, and explains why I now own alarmingly bright floral hareem ‘pants’ that get worn around the house when it's grey outside, and an elephant-print jumpsuit that made a single brave trip to Putney High Street before being buried at the back of the wardrobe with a pair of quad rollerskates and a hoola hoop. Ever the optimist, however, I still give in to these weird and wonderful ideas. The latest spontaneous fashion obsession has seen me become the proud owner of two pairs of dungarees.

Dungarees are having a moment. I was first alerted to this when the fashion editor at work rocked up to the office in a pair. Since she is the only woman on Earth to ever wear one of those coats that resemble Big Bird without immediately looking like she's trying to launch a sneak attack on an ostrich farm, I decided this was probably one of those trends reserved for people whose genetic codes spell out ‘FASHION’. However, it turns out that she’s not the only one looking fabulous in this totally unfathomable item. Soon, the other style queens of the office appeared in their own variations, working them with striped jumpers, polo necks, trainers, boots and the air of nonchalance such a decidedly risky trend requires.

For several decades, it's been an accepted fact that dungarees make everyone look like a hippy with a suspicious gardening obsession, a farmer, or a scruffy kid in Alabama about to be called in by Calpurnia for cornbread and a lesson from Atticus. Sure, Jennifer Aniston rocked a pair on the sofa in Central Perk a few times, but there’s reasonable evidence to suggest that you could march Jennifer Aniston through a hedge backwards into a pool of mud, and she would emerge, dripping slurry and trailing twigs, in a look snapped up by every magazine before the next Friends episode airs on Comedy Central.

I made my peace with the fact that this was a look I could only admire from the outside, like Charlie peering hungrily through the chocolate shop window. However, the desks and streets and images of dungaree-clad women must have seeped into my brain, because one day I found myself handing over my debit card to the assistant in Primark, purchasing my own pair of short dungarees in an almost trance-like state no doubt produced by low blood sugar and the power of advertising.

Fortunately, this unlikely arrangement has a happy ending, and we’re getting on very well. There’s something quite comforting about that little clicking noise the clips make: it’s a quiet reassurance that you are securely in your clothes – like a chunky zip, a solid popper or the hooks on a bra. They also remind me of being a kid, possibly because I haven’t worn them since I was one. There's something joyful about an all-in-one that makes you want to skip to the printer, or possibly dig out those rollerskates.  

The best feature of all, however, is that they have more pockets than everything else in my wardrobe combined. I’m still not over the novelty of being able to carry my phone, Oyster card, MP3 player, purse and emergency flare gun around hands- and bag-free at the same time. It's left me hoping that the next dubious trend to resurface will be those huge combat trousers from circa 2002, with the random bits of dangling material and a million pockets for storing plastic hair bobbles, Boots lip gloss and charity wristbands.

Like Eliza Doolittle after her elocution lessons, and Sandra Bullock’s Miss Congeniality post-totally pointless makeover, this tricky piece has gone from rough and ready cousin of the hippy jumpsuit and student onesie to Serious Fashion Item. So if you’ve been wondering whether you should try dungarees, give them a go. You can always retire them to the sofa – the pockets are the perfect place to put the remote while watching Friends re-runs.