It's our animal background, which we so vehemently try to forget. Every animal in the world has nice clothes, but us little naked, hairless, humans. We try to compensate by using what little animal sense we have left.
It's the cat in us: if it moves, jerks, is brightly colored, or flies, pounce on it.
It's the monkey in us: if everybody else is doing it...DO IT...but one better if you can. There is no such thing as ridiculous when it comes to fashion.
Clothes have been the idol of the masses for years. I guess it started when some cave lady showed up bridge club in a leopard skin outfit. Ostriches didn't care much for the "feather in the hat" craze. Alligators probably would object to carrying lip stick and other girly things around, if they had a choice.
The Pink and Gray "fashion statement" for Men and Boys, when I was in high school was my first conscious effort to decipher what was happening to the world. Grown men wearing girly colors?
I was fed a diet of Bunk and Bull very briefly, My mother insisted that I go to Miss Flossie's School of Dance, where I attempted to learn the fashionable Shag and the Jitterbug.
Miss Flossie was a trip, and considered herself the ruling authority on teen fashion. She told us, and our parents, that Blue Suede Shoes, Pink and Gray, Izod shirts, Circle Pins, Villagers outfits, were cool. I always thought she had a percentage deal with the local high price clothiers. All I know is that every Wd afternoon in the 9th grade I had to dress up in a dark gray pinstrip suit with pink button down shirt with black knit string tie and white buck with red soles and learn to Jitterbug, and Waltz, UGH!
I had hinney binders on my White Duck or Blue Seersucker pants,. These were held up on my fashionable slim hips with a pencil thin blue suede belt. Why the hell my Mama did that to me is still a mystery. I didn't like clothes, girls, or dancing. I haven't changed much, except for the girl part.
Now for todays fashions:
;Crocs are about the worst thing you can put on your feet for extended periods of time.
Teva "rock climbing sandals" make a lot of sense...when you stub your toe, or sprain an ankle on a leisurely hike through Monument Valley and have to crawl 20 miles in 1000 degree heat, be glad you wore fashionable footwear. you're looking cool, and EVERYBODY else has 'em. Branding just slays me. Anyone can have a "brand" if you spend enough money pushing it and have a steady supply of cheaply made stuff from third world countries...in various obnoxious colors.
Another pet peeve...Little cars that you wear that look like rocket ship that only a contortionist can get into are beyond me. They tout 21 EPA mileage My '71 Volvo get that much per gallon, and I can get into it.
But I digress:
The mantra when we used with Virginia Shields? "But Mama, EVERYBODY is wearing them!" It was especially dumb for me to whine about fashion. I have BIG short legs,( my daughter thanks me everyday for having "thunder thighs"). I have a long waist, wide shoulders, large feet, and huge hands. It was the perfect formula for never having clothes that fit.There were no Hancock Shoes, or Big and Tall stores back then...PERIOD.
My Mama did buy me a pair of "engineer" boots, probably the most uncomfortable pair of anythings I ever put on...but the WHINE finally got $21.00 out of her. I regretted ever seeing those boots. I had to wear them... and wear them...and wear them. It killed me to look at them after walking on concrete floors day after day. They were cool, though. I was very glad to get my annual summer Keds high tops for summer that year... White or Black only.
We went through the white duck and seersucker phase, the Batik and Madras craze, the white bucks (cause of Pat Boone), hair tonics, deodorants, Butch Wax...and then came the 60's, the Beatles,, and I never had to worry about hair cuts or fashion again! THANK YOU, LORD.
The image one presents to the world is largely one that is created by marketeers, and advertisers. Everything we wear, or drive, or use was the "latest fashion" at some pint in it existence. I prefer thing that fit, such as older modes of transportation that included a door big enough get into without crawling on hands and knees.
I guess I wonder what people think of me the first time they see me. I think my grand daughter thinks I'm Shrek, she no longer shrieks when I come in the door. but doesn't look me in the eye, either. Maybe it's because I'm not a clothes horse like so many of the males and females in my extended family. One thing I do know is that I'm comfortable in my own skin, with or without accessories.
YOu know why Odessa doesn't look you in the eye? BECAUSE SHE's TWO that's why. You're beautiful just the way you are, Daddy.
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