WHAT IS SF WEARING: 5.29.2014
This week, we've got a three-parter for you, along with the inane anecdotes of some of SW+D's wunderkinder. Enjoy!
Part 1: Tirailleur1, "The Man in the Hat"
Original WAYWT post here
Wearing: Things he finds boring, accessories by Post-Imperial
What this looks like: Bottled snark
“You believe this stuff?” says the man in the brightly-colored hat. You’re standing in the Museum of Nature and Science, reading a display about ancient astronauts.
“The shit you see on the TV about the Mayans being from Pluto or whatever? Not a chance.”
“Me neither. Kinda weird though, huh?”
You point at one of the images on the display. “Yeah, like, if that’s not a carving of an astronaut, I dunno what it is.”
“Right?” The man pushes his hat back and scratches the top of his head. He’s been behind you in line this whole time, and you’ve traded a couple of complaints about the wait.
“I guess some people probably do believe, though.” He looks up at the sign announcing the exhibit. “Those weirdos who were hoping the world would end, or whatever. Like half these people. Like this guy.” He points to the man in the red boots in front of you. “I’ve got a bad feeling about him.”
The guy in the red boots turns around. “Of course I believe in space aliens. I am one.”
High school: My style at its apex
- Platinum Fubu Fat Albert tee in XXL
- Iceberg jeans in size 40
- Reebok tennis shoes (Interchangeable with Spanish Yellow Tommy Hilfiger canvas shoes)
- A southside fade
- And a strong command of Ebonics vernacular
All this, just to survive High School. By the way, I was 135 lbs soaking wet. Let that sink in.
Today: Nothing remotely as interesting
- Blah straw hat
- Blah striped linen shirt
- Blah navy jacket
- Awesome Post-Imperial Pocket Square
- Even awesomer Post-Imperial Tie
- Blah suede tassel loafers Awesome suede tassel loafers (fukkit SF can go to hell for their dislike of loafers)
- A huge dislike for anything deemed TIMELESS AND CLASSIC
I know in some parts of this SF universe I am seen as the designated flashy dresser. A peacock. Some kind of new age dandy. I wish they met the old me.
Then you wouldn't call me any of these things
Maybe it is because I was still trying to figure out what worked for me, but most of my style phases back then were ridiculous.
From thug-life couture to ripped denim everything to visions of Helmut Lang thru ebay
And finally ending up with more Ralph Lauren clothing that I could count because a broke college kid got a great discount working part time at Macy's
By the way I am now 155 lbs soaking wet
Truly, a story of heroism. I’ll never look at you the same way again.
Part 2: Melonadejello, "The Guy in Red Boots"
Original WAYWT post here
Wearing: Robert Geller, like usual
What this looks like: The face of a true believer.
“Shut up,” says Hat. “I hate stories like this.”
“Excuse me?” says Red Boots.
“Whoa,” you say, but Red Boots ignores you and kind of gets up in the man in the hat’s face, or tries to, waddling back in forth in a way that makes you think of an irate penguin.
“You think I’m a liar? Look at this!” He pulls up the sleeve of his oversized sweater and reveals a scar on his arm, then looks back and forth at the two of you, triumphant.
You peer at it. “What’s this?”
“Proof,” he says. “I got this scar when I fell from space.”
You and the man in the hat trade a glance.
“Right. Sorry for doubting you,” you say.
“Good,” says Red Boots, rolling his sleeve down. “Most people don’t believe me. Anyway, I haven’t seen you two here before. Did you come just for the Ancient Aliens?”
“I guess,” you say. “I don’t really know why I came.”
“Like any of us had a choice,” says Hat. “We’re all just fodder.”
“For what?” He ignores you, and looks at the displays with disgust.
“This is the most important exhibit that the Museum has ever done,” says Red Boots, ignoring Hat and craning his neck towards the entrance.
“Can we just get this over with?” says Hat.
“Tickets, please,” says the bored ticket collector.
Once I was driving around with a car battery in my back seat, which tipped over and spilled onto a bunch of dirty clothes. So I ended up with a Silent tee that looked like this:
But it soon dissolved. The end.
Thank you, Melo. That was very touching.
Part 3: Lesamourai, the "Ticket Man"
Original WAYWT post here
What this looks like: Gotta stay comfy for those LAN parties.
Ticket Man takes Red Boots’ ticket, looks at him. “Oh, hey. You’re back.”
“This is only place in which I have any chance of regaining my lost memories from the Old World.”
“Right,” says Ticket Man, handing him back his torn stub. “Of course.”
“Millennia ago,” says Red Boots, staring at the massive stone carvings that line the chamber, “When my kind fell to The Blight and first sought refuge on the earth, we swore that someday we’d retake our homeworld.”
“This story sucks,” says Hat.
“What story?” you say.
“Space aliens? Ancient astronauts? What’s the twist - that this idiot actually is an alien?”
“I already told you that I’m an alien,” says Red Boots, getting huffy again.
“That’s what I mean,” says Hat. “You probably are. You,” he says, pointing at the ticket collector. “How long have you been sitting there?”
“Long time,” he says.
“What?” you say.
“I am an alien!” screams Red Boots.
“Stop throwing a hissy fit,” says Ticket Man.
“I’m not throwing a hissy fit!”
“I feel dizzy,” you say, putting your hands on your knees. There’s something wrong with the room; almost like the air has gotten pudding-thick. You gag, desperately trying to inhale.
“Oh, no,” says Hat. “It’s happening.”
The walls are bending. Red Boots is screaming bloody murder about his people and the way back and who knows what else.
“Stop him!” screams Hat. “He’s writing bullshit!”
You open your mouth, but the world is shaking and before you can ask him another question a giant, silver spaceship crashes through the roof of the Museum. Ticket Man doesn’t blink.
“God dammit,” says Hat.
Zippers. I think we've all walked out of the house not fully zipped (well, I hope) and that’s pretty much what this story is about; my lack of closure in the zipper area on my walk to work. It wasn't so bad though, only about a half hour commute, and swiftly resolved when a coworker pointed it out in a crowded elevator. I ended up in this situation again only a few weeks later; luckily, a thigh-length coat was my savior. Be on the lookout for a future WAYWT picture where this occurs.
Striking. And horrifying. From all of us at Styleforum, thank you - and we’re looking forward to it.