By André Larnyoh.

Recently I’ve been pining for the summer of 2022. Remember that one? Temperatures got to around 40 degrees and everyone was encouraged to stay indoors – something I did not do because Tooting Lido was just too inviting.

I remember wondering what to wear, less from a style point of view and more just to avoid being either naked or suffocating the moment I stepped outside. Eventually I settled on a terry-cloth polo from Fursac, a pair of vintage Polo shorts and a baseball cap – which was unusual for me. Caps make me feel like Short Round from Indiana Jones (below).

However more than the cap, it was the shorts that were jarring. For the longest time I’ve just been uncomfortable in them. They make me feel vulnerable – exposed like a gazelle on the savanna. Self-conscious of my scrawny legs and ashy knees.

Fran Lebowitz was asked a few years ago whether men should wear shorts in the city and her basic response was ‘no’ (though of course in that roundabout, cutting way of hers).

At the time I agreed – why go for shorts when wide-legged trousers in a breezy linen or cotton work just as well? When I came across people in shorts, even those I consider good dressers, I’d internally shake my head. Is that really the best you could do?

In my mind shorts were meant for beach holidays, intense workouts and Just William. No one wants to see them on the Tube. I regularly go to Ghana to see family, and I could count on a closed fist the number of times I’ve packed a pair of shorts.

Fast forward to 2024 though and I’m now the proud owner of not one but two pairs that I love. So what changed, what prompted such a rejection of Lebowitz?

Mostly it was trying them again – being open-minded and comfortable with my own insecurities. As soon as I found some that appealed to me, that fit with the way I dress and make me feel good about my legs, it was straightforward. In fact good about myself as a whole, because, as I said earlier, shorts are profoundly exposing.

This where women, once again, have us beat – both in terms of options available (flowy skirts, bigger trousers, sleeveless garments) and at least for women I know, a higher level of confidence and ownership of their bodies.

I’ve always been slight of frame, but growing up I was just plain scrawny, so trousers were the best way to hide my chicken legs. Part of what led to my eventual comfort in shorts was realising there are people out there – especially in cities like London – walking around with all manner of legs. Toned, pink, hairy or ashier than Vesuvius, they’re all wearing shorts and 90% of them do not care. There’s freedom in that.

This gradual acceptance of shorts has been a journey of self confidence, as well as a fashion one. However, most readers are probably more interested in the latter, so let’s get back to that.

The first pair that got me going was the aforementioned 90s Polo ones. They’re basically a modification of a double-pleated chino they used to make and of which I own a few pairs – so when I discovered a short version on eBay for the low low price of £30, it felt like providence.

(Unfortunately I can’t find anything similar from the current collection, aside from maybe a few options in Purple Label, but if readers have any recommendations please do chip in.)

In a sense I already knew how these vintage ones would fit and how they would wear. That photo above is the first actual time I ever left the house in a pair of shorts.

I found they sat easily with pretty much everything, particularly the simplicity of worn-in Belgians and a roomy, untucked white oxford. My ever reliable quick-release shirt from LEJ (pictured with the shorts above) also proved to be a game changing combination on particularly balmy days, where ventilation was a priority.

A major part of the appeal of these two pairs over other shorts I’ve seen out and about are the fact that they’re pleated. I’m not really fussed about inseam lengths as long there is sufficient volume and width.

The second pair, and the ones I currently love most dearly, are ghurka shorts from Brycelands. Based on a 1940s British Army pair, they’re quite unusual – longer than most, higher in the rise, wide in the thigh and drawing yet more attention with the self-belting waist and its brass buckles.

However, in black I’ve found they’re subtler than other colours, and you can roll up the hems for a bit more shape. Also, despite what people tell me about black absorbing heat rays, I’ve always worn it in the summer with no ill effects.

I wear these shorts with quite a wide range of things too, though I wouldn’t tuck in anything that wasn’t a T-shirt – it’s too much. Untucked shirts fall nicely over the waistband, obscuring that complex-looking waist. And my black-linen smock from AWMS makes for a very minimalist pairing, something of a summer default for me now: simple, roomy and full of natural ease.

One thing I would have always thought would be off limits with shorts would be tailoring – verboten.

But recently, feeling rather bold, I broke that rule. Taking a page out of artist Peter Beard’s book I wore the ghurka shorts with a black tee and a well-worn linen/silk tweed jacket from Drake’s.

I really hadn’t anticipated how flatteringly relaxed the whole thing would be. And for me at least, rather versatile. Versatility is the last thing I expected from shorts, but it just goes to show how important the right pair is.

It also goes to show, in a wider sense, how important it is to keep an open mind about things that you might’ve written off previously. Not everything will feel comfortable straight away, but there’s something to be said for returning to something as we change – you might find that it wasn’t so bad after all, and there’s a way to make it work for you.

Shorts still aren’t the first thing I reach for when the temperature goes over 20 degrees – I still rely heavily on those loose trousers, and Fran’s voice is still somewhere in the back of my mind. But I’m much more emboldened to show off my thighs and calves.

I just always need a little tube of moisturiser with me, for the knees.