A. Asymmetrical hair. The only haircut worse than the “business in front; party in back” mullet, the asymmetrical cut said “Do I know you from english class or lesbian softball team tryouts?” Was decidedly not a guy magnet.
B. Walkman headphones. Ubiquitous. Usually playing a heavy rotation of REM, Elvis Costello, Squeeze, Prince and Talking Heads albums, unless a tape jammed and was eaten by my Walkman, in which case they functioned as tiny earmuffs.
C. Crazy earrings. Loud, strange, “arty” ones that I thought expressed my “frustrated artist lost in a world of wannabe Gordon Gekkos” mentality. Mainly they just got caught on my Forenza sweaters or wapped me in the face on windy days.
D. Vintage men’s overcoat. My father was particularly troubled by the fact that his daughter intentionally dressed like a Lower East Side pickle salesman. I thought my look rocked.
E. Oversized cotton sweater from The Limited. I owned three of these shapeless ¾ sleeved, cheesesteak-fattened-ass coverers that I wore over a collection of leggings and zipper-legged pants from Reminiscence. Yeah, that was a slimming look.
F. Keffiya. The preferred neckwear of college students protesting the school’s investments in South Africa. Because if you’re looking for a fashion inspiration, you can’t do better than Yasser Arafat. My parents forbade me to wear it when visiting my grandfather, who swore he had ties to The Jewish Defense League. [Read more...]