Last night I went to a concert. It was one I had been looking forward to. I am not going to be specific but it was a band that’s been around for about 12 or 13 years and is alternative rock maybe borderline punk. The front man is amazingly talented with a gifted set of pipes and a flamboyant stage presence. I love him.
I took my 15 year old son. I unfortunately made him dress up a little which was not really a good call on my part but I really enjoyed seeing him looking so put together and handsome. The problem was that everyone at this concert was so dressed down that they looked like they got their clothes from the dumpster in back of the Goodwill. My son made a comment that he was the only person wearing a color. Not one person had on any color except for the girls wrapped in gay pride flags. (Don’t get weird – it’s just true) That was the only color we saw anyone wearing! That and faded turquoise blue hair.
So the issue for me is this: Why do gorgeous people.. inside and out, make themselves look as grungy as possible? I could tell it was a deliberate look. What is the allure of faded unusual colored hair (for some reason I never see it bright), cut offs and a crappy band tee shirt? How do people get to a point where they get dressed in rags rather than pretty fabrics and say yes, this is the perfect costume for me. It seemed like every person was wearing the same costume. We felt really out of place. I didn’t understand the fashion. I felt like a reverse rebel. People were looking at me and my son like “What are YOU doing here?” Well, I have a right to be there and I love the band as much as you! I just don’t feel comfortable in cut offs and a bra.
Every day when I drop my son off at the high school down the street, I see the girls in their “identity costumes”. We all dress the way we see ourselves. I know there is a dress code but it looks like the administration has given up since so many girls are wearing the shortest most shortest of the shortest short cut off pants in the world. It’s ….. well…… embarrassing. They are not covering their rears and barely the hoo ha. The girls are yanking and tugging on them as they ride up the cracks. I saw one the other day that literally made me laugh out loud as it looked like she did the cut early that morning while she was still a little sleepy. One leg shorter than the other and all jaggedy like. She was tugging and pulling and I could see the doubt in her eyes that she may not have made a good decision.
I know when I was a teenager we had our own wierdnesses. The pants we wore were so tight that none of us could breathe or sit, but we did get in trouble if we didn’t cover our body parts with some fabric. I remember hearing my mother say “those pants are too tight Annie”, as the door slammed behind me. I had not an ounce of fat on my 15 year old body so I really didn’t care. I had a bi-level hair cut or a drop perm and I often dressed in black tights and short boots while listening to the Go-Gos and Duran Duran on my cassette tape boom box. However, I could switch gears. I could also wear a cheerleading costume, or a sweater and cords or an AC/DC tee shirt and a pair of jeans. I tended to change my costumes as I had a diverse array of interests.
I find it interesting that many of us find one costume and that is the one we wear for life or for a very long season. It is one that says “this is me and I am in this box over here. You are wrong if you don’t like it”. I thought about trying to wear cut offs for a day or dying my hair turquoise just to try to figure out how that feels. I am content however to realize that everyone is just where they are at because of their own experiences and things that resonate with them. We observe from our own perspective and form opinions and sometimes judgements about others who differ from us. I am always grateful for my ability back when I was younger to move around in different groups rather then letting others label and pigeonhole me in to a limiting stereotype. I was a chameleon. I was a cheerleader, a drama geek, a nerd, a stoner, a rocker, a new waver, an artist, a student activist all rolled in to one. I also had a life that no one knew about outside of school. Maybe other people saw me as only one of those things but I was all of them. I still do this. I don’t want to be stereotyped. I don’t want to stereotype myself.
Everyone is coming from their own unique perspective. As long as your perspective isn’t violent or harming others, we can learn to tolerate each other, but we do appreciate it when you don’t cut your cut offs too short.