Friday, May 02, 2008

• My Year of Fashion Crimes

  What was your worst-ever "fashion crime"? Are you willing to share a photo?
  
  Yardenxanthe answered this question and as I often do, I blogged in the comment box on her blog. I thought I'd bring it over here and then maybe comment on another fashion crime. See yardenxanthe's blog for a good definition of a fashion crime.
  
  I went to see This American Life on the big screen last night. It was a live event beamed all over the country (though I imagine it was delayed for the west coast, because otherwise it would have started at 11pm in New York). I've never been to an event like that before. I've kind of wanted to go to one of the Metropolitan Opera ones, but it's never happened. Ditto a concert--I wanted to see Keith Urban because I like him and Garth Brooks because I'll probably never go to an actual Garth Brooks concert and I hear they're unbelievable. And I actually do like like him, too.
  
  I swear this will tie into the fashion crimes discussion. Or at least I think it will.
  
  Anyway, This American Life was just terrific, of course. I was a little apprehensive about it at first, just like I was when I saw the TV show for the first time after being such a devoted listener to the radio show. It was great. They showed bits from the new season of the TV show and things that didn't make it to air, talked about both the TV and radio shows and how they differ, and took audience questions. I think my favorite story of the night was when they had this Iraqi man travel around the USA and set up a little booth that looks much like Lucy's psychologist booth in the Peanuts cartoon. Instead of "Psychologist 5 cents" the booth says "Talk to an Iraqi." It was, as you might guess if you're a This American Life fan, moving and interesting and surprising.
  
  Another really good story they showed was by Jonathan Goldstein about a group of middle schoolers doing standup comedy. The teacher's advice to one kid was (she called it the first rule of comedy), "it's better to be liked than funny."
  
  Anyway, these kids were so great. They all talked about having no friends and being tormented and how they viewed being funny as a gift. This one kid called it "God's handicap," meaning, you have a miserable life, you have no friends and everyone hates you, but you're funny, "and that will get you somewhere." Goldstein talked about how weird it was that these kids wanted to go onstage, since most kids that age (and I would think especially the friendless) would want to attract as little attention as possible.
  

  In junior high and high school (jr. high especially), I definitely wanted to blend in. I wanted to get through the day without being noticed at all, which wasn't easy because my Spanish teacher called on me constantly and had us do all kinds of weird things--I understand that she might have enjoyed donning a poncho and sombrero and dancing around the room, but 7th graders generally take a dim view of that sort of thing.
  

  When I started 7th grade, I had done all my back-to-school shopping at my grandmother's in Tennessee, where the fashion was decidedly different than in California. While the other kids were wearing Dittos (in retrospect, not that great a look, either) and jeans, I had a bunch of these kind of weird sort of polyester pants that didn't really fit--I had several colors (all pastels, as I recall) and then a bunch of tops that would basically match any of the pants. Kind of like Garanimals. And then the wavy-soled shoes (I think they were called Famolares). It's totally cringe-worthy and I knew I looked bad and I felt bad and well, you know. It was 7th grade. Not a lot of good things were happening in my life.

  I think there was a picture of me in one of these getups in the yearbook, because I was a member of the (yes) history club. It's hard to believe I wasn't popular, huh. If there is any other photographic evidence, I don't know where it would be.

  I've been rocking the jeans & sweatshirt look pretty much ever since. I think I liked sweaters a lot in the 80s but I don't own a sweater now.

  I'll see if I can find the yearbook as it's probably in my garage--I wonder why I would keep such a thing, though, come to think of it...and possibly scan and post.

  I was thinking last night after the show that the adults who saw the stand-up comedy kids generally liked them so much, and it was so easy to see that the kids awkward and full of self-loathing. I felt a real tenderness toward them, especially the "God's handicap" kid. But I know I don't feel any tenderness toward the history club kid with the awful ill-fitting pants and the wavy shoes, and I wish I did. I wish I could look at the yearbook and not hate that kid.

  Now, the other fashion crime was really awful and not my idea. My parents used to throw a Christmas party every year for my dad's co-workers. I hated these parties with a passion, mainly because my mother was more insane than usual when she got ready for one. One time, she had me vacuum our living room carpet, and the room was like 20' x 30'. I vacuumed it, but she didn't like the fact that the room looked freshly vacuumed, so she made me do it again, this time pushing the vaccum the length of the room, and then carrying it back to the other end, and repeating this process until I'd covered the entire floor.

  Anyway, one year when my sister was 2 or 3 and I was 11 or 12 (I think I was in 7th grade for this one too), my mother decided we would have matching outfits for the party. I want to die just recounting this incident. We had done the dress-alike thing one other time, when we had family pictures taken. As you might imagine, what looks adorable on a 2-year-old looks stupid on an 11-year-old. In this case, my mother sewed us both overalls. Yes, overalls. QUILTED overalls. Dark blue, with red and white flowers. Instead of the traditional overall snap thing, they fastened with velcro. And we wore matching red turtlenecks underneath. I don't look good in red. I don't look good in a turtleneck. I don't look good in overalls, quilted or otherwise. I'm surprised my mother didn't try to find me some oversize baby shoes so we could match exactly.
  

  I know I've seen pictures of this abomination, but I wouldn't have a clue where to find one. It would be interesting to see how accurately I remember the outfits. The photo I remember is of my sister sitting in my lap. She looks over-the-top cute, and I look like a 12-year-old in baby clothes.

  
     

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