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Opinion is divided on the role of fashion in
society: does it function as a conspiracy,
addiction , or merely a loathsome and communicable
disease? Never one to overlook a "gimme", the
Weekend Warrior will examine that question and
field the usual devastating results.
The investigation was furthered by very close
questioning of a figure with known fashion
connections: a model I used to date. She's been
around the style game for a long time and in fact
refers to herself as an "Old Fashioned girl". Which
I will vouch for, though it can take as many as six
Old Fashioneds to do the trick. (I happen to know
she's also a "Tequila Shooter girl", but she's a
little fuzzy about that incident, which is just as
well).
She summed up fashion history for me in one
word: "French". It's a word she's gotten a lot of
mileage out of, but she's right--fashion would be
nowhere without the French Connection. You can see
it in the vocabulary. The very concept of
"fashionable" is expressed as ala mode,
which might seem a little weird until you see all
those anorexic clone models probably just praying
that somebody would slap a scoop of ice cream on
them. You can hardly talk about clothes without
using terms like decolletage (meaning a
deficiency of collagen), derierre (meaning
"from the rear"--many a young model was born in the
Midwest, but reared in Paris), chic (meaning
"to show too much derierre") or in vogue,
(meaning "photographed hanging off some bulimic,
grotto-eyed, holocaust victim lookalike so as to
give a 'daring' glimpse of something carefully
constructed to resemble a breast but located where
no normal woman would have one").
Of course, not all fashion terms are French: we
owe "Vunderbra" to German, "spangle" to Splanglish,
"bangle" to Bangladesh, "Heroin chic" to The Auld
Moss, and "Prozac chic" to Hillary Clinton. The
Italians have a lot to answer for, too. All that
Armani, Gucci, Oscar Low Renta. In fact the very
word "fashion" comes from the same Italian root as
"facism". But none of that is important to you
right now. What IS important, according to the
Warrior--and you don't get much more important than
that--is knowing how to predict fashion trends and
avoid their ravages.
Rule # 1 Don't be a woman
Fashion victimizes women almost
exclusively. Including women trapped inside men's
bodies, of course. Although I don't really
understand that concept. A man trapped inside a
woman's body I understand all to well. The last
time it happened to me it required a drum of icy
Gatoraid, a hydraulic jack, two sets of AbMasters,
an overdose of Valium and a Papal Dispensation to
get loose.
But the important thing is, men (REAL men,
anyway) are immune to fashion. We NEVER think about
our shoes matching our wallets. We never freak out
because somebody in the same room is wearing the
same outfit. In fact, if you work for an insurance
company you might freak if you notice your outfit
is DIFFERENT from everyone else at the meeting. You
can't put some Roman flit's name on a twenty dollar
pair of jeans and sell them to us for a hundred
bucks. You can't get us to pay a hundred bucks for
a haircut. We don't give a lot of thought to our
belts or skin coloration or socks seams or if our
fellow plumbers in Paris are showing more or less
butt crack this fall. Okay, there's the running
shoe thing, but those are basically toys or tools
or something: fashion is a condition that mostly
attacks female victims.
For instance, women pay consultants to find out
their Color Seasons--that they are "Winters" or
"Springs" and have to buy a bunch of make-up and
accessories to work it out. Most men instinctively
dressed seasonally. In baseball season a Padres hat
and cleats will do, in football season an oversized
Charger jersey and black goo under the eyes, during
surfing season jams and a lobotomy, and during ice
hockey season a plastic face mask and machete. See?
No consultant needed, everything accomplished with
common household materials. Why would women and not
men get sucked into rampant Fashism?
Magazines, that's why. Women's magazines feature
skinny young women dressed up in ridiculous,
expensive clothes. In men's magazines the skinny
young women are neither so skinny nor so
encumbered. Fashion just doesn't raise its ugly
head. Oh, sure there are clothing ads in male
magazines; but usually just some kid with a lots of
pecs and cheekbone staring into the camera with
some vague attitude while his frame is being
crawled by some unencumbered young woman. Except
Esquire and GQ, where they think women carry
disease or cootis and prefer to depict cleancut,
firm-fleshed young guys. But those "International
Male" types aren't the point --we're talking about
breeder males. Who are much less interested in
fashion than male things like cars, guns, tools,
electronics and breeding. Men don't care what we
wear. Or what women wear, for that matter. Or even
if. Have you ever heard of a man dressing a woman
with his eyes?
If so, he's probably a fashion designer.
Fashions are almost exclusively perpetrated by
homosexuals out to degrade do it to degrade the
women they loathe. After a show, they get together
to snicker over the stupid stuff they've just
gotten those silly little bitches to wear on a
raised runway in front of cameras and bright
lights. Then they take turns wearing the stuff
themselves. Which is why it's all made for tall,
mannish, hipless women with no breasts or body fat.
Once you know what's going on, the whole scam is
sooooo obvious.
Rule #2 Calculate what Young People are
wearing.
It's absurdly easy. I'm surprised there's not a
little computer for doing it. All you have to do to
be hep with the hot young styles is shop the thrift
shops in middle-aged neighborhoods. Just buy
clothes your parents got rid of as being
unfashionable. Hippies wore forties funk that
fifties people were too slick for, the "New Wave"
wore the skinny ties and tight cuffs the sixties
people dropped out of, now everyone is wearing
Eastern European polyester crap that NOBODY would
have. You can almost make out a chart for what
spontaneous, creative youngsters will be sporting
in the future. Or you can just:
Rule #3 Dress like John Travolta
This rule seems strange, but it's one of the
most reliable of our times. For some reason
Travolta been the fashion God of America for two
decades. How do these things happen? God knows. You
can't choose it, it chooses you. Travolta would
probably rather be God of Volcanos or Rain Forests
or something, but instead he was picked by the
Universe to show Americans how to dress.
He did "Grease" and everybody suddenly decided
to celebrate those fun fifties with leather
jackets, poodle skirts and cosmoline hairdos. Then
"Saturday Night Fever" got everybody into three
piece poly suits, the Hustle, and more hairgoo.
"Urban Cowbow" came out and everybody ditched the
gladrags and started wearing boots, stetsons, and
Bull Durham chaws. Then he made a couple of movies
where he just danced around practically naked and
everybody did THAT (Flea should credit him on his
album covers). Then, for reasons we mortals can
only guess at, he did the worst thing
imaginable--he didn't make any more movies. It was
hell. Nobody knew what to wear. Pathetic souls
slumped around in satin tour jackets, cowboy hats,
and motorcycle boots--crying out for
accessorization, acting out the hurtful need for a
direction, a zeitgeist, an ensemble. As a result,
the eighties was a shambles, the only decade with
no "look" of its own. Okay, parachute pants.
Obviously a reaction to a disaster situation--or
possibly a token for the Bailout era.
Just when things could get no worse (suburban
teenagers were starting to sag trou and their
parents were wearing Forest Gump drag) The Second
Coming saved us all. Travolta returned with "Pulp
Fiction", trailing clouds of glory, and everything
was back on track. You could FEEL the relief. No
more the nagging, niggling doubts, the hollow look
in the mirror--men needed only to get out there
with dark stark Eurotrash suits, weird sunglasses,
a nine millimeter sidearm, and a discreet but
fashionable drug habit and the nineties just fell
into place.
Women had but to dress like the Travolta's
leading ladies. (Huge syringe protruding from
between the breasts optional, and not for
beginners). The "dress like Travolta" fashion rule
only works because Travolta is infallible and has
never abused his Godhood. Think what might have
happened if he had played "Gandhi". A million young
people wearing loincloths and caste marks. Or if
he'd done "Amadeus"? Or The Riddler or Robin Hood
or Elvis or Jabba the Hut (the "young Jabba") or
the One Armed Man? It's too frightening to imagine.
Fortunately, in a world with so little to believe
in, we can have faith that Travolta will continue
to guide and watch over the way we dress. Unless
the rumor is true that he'll star in the
soon-to-be-cast "Dennis Rodman Story". With Damon
Wayans as Jordan, Wesley Snipes as Pippen, Whoopi
Goldberg as Modonna and Jim Carey in the role he
was born to play--100,000 berserk fans. But where
were we?
Ah yes, Fashion: Mindfuck or Menace? I think
I've said enough to let you draw your own
conclusions. But in case you can't, allow me to say
that all you really need to wear is simple
clothing, like a humble T-shirt. An idea
commemorated by the WEEKEND WARRIOR humble T-shirt,
the kind of anti-fashion, anti-ripoff statement all
hip people are making these days. Order one while
they last, just $19.95 postpaid from REVOLT IN
STYLE. Get a few for your friends, too, or they'll
feel shabby and left-out. Hey, that's fashion for
you.
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THE WEEKEND WARRIOR
SAMPLE TEXTS
by Linton Robinson
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