Every now and then, a fashion or style comes along that leaves sensible people the world over shaking their heads in disbelief. One of the worst, and most frustratingly here-to-stay, is the Metrosexual Male.

There are several examples of metrosexual styling, not least in the mish-mash world of sporting celebrity, just think of the following:

• David Beckham (sarongs, long hair, short hair, permatan, etcetera)
• Christiano Ronaldo (greasy ever-changing hairstyles, purse carrying, permatan)
• Dennis Rodman (an early adopter of metrosexual style: coloured hair, hout cuture (i.e. ridiculous) fashion, etc)
• Most soccer players (permatan, straightened hair, pink shirts)

For reasons only known to the world of fashion, some time around the year 2001, men everywhere suddenly decided that hair-straighteners were for them; that moisturiser was a must-have product; and that anyone who didn’t use a sunbed at least once a week was clearly not as special as them. They were wrong.

At the time, I was relatively unconcerned: this must surely disappear as all other fads and fashions are apt, however, it seems, I was wrong.

One can only imagine the bathroom hours that are now entirely wasted by men who, in years gone by, would simply have sprayed a bit of deoderant on and brushed some water through their day old hair-gel.

Now everywhere I look in the city streets, all I can see is baby-faced boys, with highlighted hair, wearing pink, sipping moccha lattes.

Unfortunately, it would seem that metrosexuals are here to stay – there is now a cornucopia of mens health and other such magazines on the market. Even FHM, once the domain of men’s men, now features “products” – by products, I of course mean useless overpriced creams, and shaving products designed to give “that day old stubble look” which are in fact just ordinary soap which costs 20 times the normal price.

The worst aspect of all of this (and this is another aspect which is creeping into society as a whole) is that the metrosexual male has fostered the belief that he is somehow a celebrity. He wants VIP access to nightclubs; to drink the finest champagne; to have the latest and greatest hair care products; and a new hair-do each week. And all of this on a builder’s wages.

Metrosexual males: over-preened, over-tanned and over-drawn.

Being Emo is very 2005.

Emos are shit because of the contradictions that they represent: “I don’t want to conform, therefore I’ll become part of a group”… and hang around outside a train station, or in a park, looking sad.

Grow up.

Just because you are a teenager, and you have a thousand hormones racing around your body, does not mean that everyone is against you, or that you have a monopoly on being emotional.

This has all been done before – emos would be mortified to realise this – so it is NOT unique, or non-conformist. Becoming emo is, in fact, an action demonstrating a complete lack of individuality.

I can just see it now: “Emo Conference 2025″ where aging emos will meet to discuss the best types of black eyeliners for those entering their 40s, and will all have a cry together, causing their mascara to run.

I’m not talking about footwear for crocodiles. That would be cool. It’s Crocs Shoes that really get my goat.

These shoes are OK for infants, to whom bright colours and horrible design may have some appeal, but any adult who goes into a shoeshop and comes out with a pair for themselves simply needs to be told.

As with skateboarding, there is an age when you should just stop doing it. Wearing croc shoes over the age of about seven is just ridiculous. And that is where the problem lies.

I have seen whole families wearing these monstrous shoes, looking extremely smug, and probably chatting with each other about how comfortable their feet are. Comfortable they may well be, but all the stares you get from everyone you pass in public must be pretty hard to shake off.

Go and get a proper pair of shoes.