|[ Fa Fa Fa Fa Fashion
It HAS been a long time since
I last dared to bare my Monday morning soul to you lot. I don't have any
real excuse other than tiredness - my last 3 Sundays have been spent with
quite a few bottles of white, red and the myriad colours in between. However,
this weekend's "do" crystalized this some thoughts that MUST be explained...
Under the shade thrown by our
huge liquid amber, we've had bar-b-que after bar-b-que (or so it seems)
and as I wiped the smoke away from my eyes yesterday afternoon I noticed
that my friends and I don't have a particularly marvellous dress sense.
Now, don't get me wrong, we can scrub up quite well upon request but, for
the lazing about on the piss on a simply beautifull Sunday afternoon, the
shorts, the casual shirts and the comfy shoes seem more important than
trying to impress with name brands and stylishness. This may have something
to do with the age group involved but, on the other hand, I went to a 'surprise'
70th birthday party for a good friend's father a few weeks ago where simply
everyone looked absolutely terrific (this was a special occasion, though)
- yes, they all scrubbed up very well for a bunch of people with heart
attacks and strokes scattered amongst them. I try my best to look OK most
of the time but, really, my heart's not in it. It has been thus for most
of my life, in fact. I remember clearly my most obvious fashion stupidity
- in my early teens, I'd seen some pics in some mag or another with people
modelling fringed cowhide jackets. My eyes couldn't believe the beauty
of these articles of clothing but, as I had no money at all, I thought
I might be able to wip up the required look with my own hands. It was the
sort-of country fringes that attracted me the most and it didn't really
matter that where they were. So I got a pair of extremely tight, old, puke
brown, bell bottom trousers and attacked the bells with a razor blade!
Yes, the fringes were there, starting about 2 inches below my knees and
floating hippieishly about my calves. I put them on and the image in the
mirror was, I thought, soooo cool. I decided, stupidly, to wear them outside,
in the real world - just down to the local shops, mind you, but that was
enough. I got quite a few double-takes and surprised stares but, my mind
had gone somewhere else - I actually thought that the weird looks coming
my way were ones of appreciation, not horror. It wasn't until I purchased
something from the shop that the full error of my ways crashed in upon
me. The rather crabby shop owner looked me in the eyes as he took my money
and said "Are you alright? Is anything wrong? Do you need an ambulance?"
and things of that sort. I could only reply with a dumb-founded "wha'"
but he made his views quite clear by moving his gaze downwards and laughing
heartily and lengthily. I ran home with a tear in my eye and a hardness
in my heart which hasn't melted since...