On the face of it I’m maybe not the best person to deliver an opinion piece centred upon eyewear, for I’m one of the fortunate ones who, some 37 years on in the world, still hasn’t needed to visit an optician.
I wasn’t the young child who “failed” their eye test and subsequently got wound up by their siblings. I’ve never had reason to memorise the Snellen chart. I wasn’t the 1970s/1980s school kid whose “good glasses” were kept safely at home, replaced in day-to-day life with the brown thick-rimmed NHS badges of dubious honour. I’ve never had to look through my pockets or bags for a chunky glasses case in my “right, have I got everything?” checks.