Utopian Turtletop. Monsieur Croche's BĂȘte Noire. Contact: turtletop [at] hotmail [dot] com

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

fashion notes

When it pleased my mom on the 4th of July that I wore plaid shorts that had belonged to my late father, I realized that the relentless march of fashion -- and this applies to music as well -- is the triumphal march of youth shoving age to the sidelines of imagery. I've always loved wearing my dad's clothes, and my grandpa's, and various uncles', and my brother's -- because wearing my relatives' clothes reminds me of them and I love my relatives. And this applies to music as well -- pop music from the '20s through the '50s is the pop music of my grandparents' and parents' youths and young adulthoods, and loving their music brings them close to me.

When I wear clothes a few decades out of fashion, it brings the illusion that time has not completely marginalized the style choices of my parents.

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When my beloved spouse and I started dating, I teased her that her beret reminded me I was dating an older woman. She is exactly 18 months older than me, and I had only one younger friend who wore a beret -- a childhood friend a month younger -- and several older lefty friends who wore them. She hasn't worn her beret much in recent years. I had to laugh when once, several months ago, our son, before he turned 4, informed my beloved spouse that her beret was not her style. "It's not your style," he said.

* * * * *

I've grown my hair shoulder length again, for the first time since I cut it short in '99. My mom was startled to see it when we were visiting. "Aging hippie," she called me.

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Fashion highlight of the Vancouver Folk Music Festival last weekend: The young woman in a bikini with her cell phone clipped to her hip.

-- plaid shorts picture stolen from a fashion web site

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