Fashion Choices
There is a photo of me at around six years old wearing a Hot Wheels jacket/pants combo, staring at the camera with my feet apart, holding a gun. There was a fire in that young man’s eyes, a flame burned inside that could only be contained by the most scorching fashions available from that era. Maybe the gun wasn’t the best choice but the rest of the outfit was amazing. You could build off of that solid foundation-and I did. I would say, with the exception of the years 11-15, my style was bold until I reached the age of thirty, then I got…boring. Let’s return to that young baller from the seventies.
If you were alive during that decade, regardless of your age, you were affected by it. The seventies consumed you with its grit and overwhelming audaciousness in style, fabrics, cars, music, and movies. I was no exception. Maybe my mom deserves the credit for draping me in the plaids and beiges that would become my hallmark look. I was her blank canvas. There were some missteps, however.
I was known to wear a neckerchief on occasion. If you are envisioning a tough cowboy, you would be wrong. I was more Dale Evans than John Wayne. It was still pretty cool to put it on and act like a cowboy anyway, the same way it was fun to safety-pin a dishtowel around my neck and pretend it was a cape. I had a little guitar that completed the western look that I was trying to achieve. I’m sure there was also a gun somewhere close by. I was rarely without my trusty firearm.
There was another questionable fashion choice that I made around this same age. While on a family camping trip in Kentucky, I put a quarter in a gum-ball machine and received an amazing treasure. Remember how those machines would dispense a plastic egg-like container that would hold a mystery surprise? Well, my prize was a necklace with a gold chain and a green gemstone pendant. I insisted on wearing this even when my brother told me I looked like a girl. My dad even tried to gently inform me that maybe I shouldn’t wear it. I didn’t know what they were talking about, this was clearly the most beautiful object I’d ever had the privilege to wear. Looking back, I can envision my dad, probably in a rural Kentucky store full of locals with his son wearing a glittery necklace, thinking this bait shop is Studio 54. I suppose even a kid who wears Hot Wheels pants and carries a gun needs to feel pretty sometimes.
