IF you ever needed proof that humankind stubbornly refuses to learn from the mistakes of the past, I must impart the troubling news that “skinny brows” – a 1990s fashion staple – are back in vogue.

Now, in the grand scheme of things, eyebrows are not high on the crisis agenda. We’ve all got enough on our plates in these tumultuous times wondering what fresh circle of hell awaits when it comes to the cost of living, soaring energy bills or the latest whims of self-serving politicians.

As a rule, I don’t devote much time to thinking about my eyebrows. I leave them to get on with the job of wicking away sweat, rain and moisture, occasionally calling upon their assistance to convey joy, exasperation or surprise. That’s about the extent of our relationship.

I know that there is an entire industry devoted to the upkeep of this area of the face – hair removal, dyes, stencil kits, crayons, pencils, thickening fibres and setting gels – but after what happened in the 1990s, a solemn pact was made. Think of it as a peace treaty between me and my brows.

Back then, deep within the hazy mire of Ladette culture and heady cries of Girl Power, there came a heinous trend for super thin eyebrows. And, of course, I hopped right on board that bandwagon.

I have a feeling that many who lived through this era were possibly so distracted by everything else going on – Spice Mania, Britpop, New Labour promising that Things Can Only Get Better – that the true horrors of this particular fad have since been lost in the annals of history.

But it was a dark time. In their 1990s heyday, Oasis frontmen Noel and Liam Gallagher had bushy brows to rival Parker from Thunderbirds. Yet, for some reason, the equivalent standard for female beauty was coveting slender, arched slivers reminiscent of a creepy Pierrot clown.

Cast your mind back to Gwen Stefani belting out Don’t Speak on MTV or Drew Barrymore starring in the film Mad Love. Barely-there brows. It is painful to think of now. Quite literally.

Determined to emulate their style, my younger self bought a pair of tweezers from Boots. I can still remember the laborious process of taming my riotous brows. It was never-ending. Like painting the Forth Bridge (before it got the fancy, new-fangled paint).

On one occasion I even employed the services of a beautician, although archaeologist may perhaps have been a more apt description given that her over-zealous pruning technique unearthed a silvery scar from a childhood bicycle accident that I had forgotten existed until that moment.

My eyebrows took ages to grow back properly. I was lucky. I know from speaking to friends that some of them still rue the damage done by overplucking in the 1990s.

There is often discussion about the so-called “hemline index”, a theory that suggests skirt lengths rise or fall along with stock prices.

Perhaps the return of skinny brows indicates that a cultural or political sea change is brewing? Which, by my watch, means the revolution should be along any moment now.

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