Fashionable fascists

Fashion

“Look good, feel good,” the saying goes.  But that’s not the only reason to look good.  First impressions matter.   Dress for success.   Dress to kill.  Knock ‘em dead.  Plus, your identity can adapt to what you look like.  The clothes make the man.  You can’t be a president in rags, and you can’t be a homeless person in a 3-piece suit.  Fuck-me pumps are definitely sending out a message, just like, say, a fanny-pack, or a uniform, or your choice of swimwear, or lingerie, or if you want to be either anonymous or remembered.   Maybe you want to go naked.  Your body makes a statement, itself.   You can sculpt your body into a beautiful work of art.  The choice of color(s) is, of course, essential.   Albert Einstein, it is said, only wore grey.  Colorful clothing cheers you up.  Maybe you don’t want people to “see red.”  And maybe you want to match your eye color, or fit in, or cross-dress, or dress for the colors of a team (or gang?).  Maybe you dress for memory.   Let me explain:  Say, you rotate colors with the days of the week.   You can remember Sundays more easily if you wear yellow, Monday as green day, (you can listen to the band, and also earn/spend some cash), Tuesday as a day to listen to the blues (and vote democrat), Wednesday is when to listen to Purple Rain, Thursday as Thor’s day (the red god of war, of course), Friday to fry up some bacon and wear orange, in solidarity with prisoners, or eat an orange, or have sex.  Maybe you’ll feel like 5 different people.   That’s okay.  Actors get paid to be chameleons.  You can do it, too, if you like.  Saturday you can choose any color you like, say, black, white, grey, brown..  Listen to the indigo girls, or Red Ryder, or the Beatles white album, or black spirituals, black metal.  Kaleidoscopic tie-dye rainbow may be called for on days you take acid.  Slip into something a little more comfortable.  Pajama people in fuzzy slippers and sun-worshippers on nude beaches.   Camouflage or ninja black might be in order.  Experiment.   Find out who you want to be.  And who you don’t.  And for god’s sake don’t get killed by bloods or crips.  Switch things up, just for variety and fun.  Try being something else for a change.  All the world’s a stage, and it’s a free country for you to play any role you like.  So get creative.   Blend in or make a statement.   Let your freak flag fly, or be totally unremarkable, just a drop of water in an endless sea.  Whatever you do, have fun.  You have freedom:  Use it.  Be a suit.  Be a punk.  Be a princess.  Be a leatherman.  I don’t care.  Formal or casual, plain or flashy, cheerful or dark, normal or weird.   I like to look clean, to step out looking my best.  Drives every girl crazy for a sharp-dressed man!   Right?  The world is superficial, and materialist, and every thread sends a message, signaling how you want to be seen, interpreted, interacted-with.  And then there’s chess.  Everybody’s in black or white these days.  If you look good, wear a tank top, shorts.  If you’re ugly, cover up.  But don’t listen to me.  Do whatever the fuck you want.  Alright?