Earlier today I saw someone wearing a plaid flannel shirt tied around his waist. Remember that fashion non-statement from about ten or fifteen years ago? It seemed to disappear leaving as little trace as coordinating neons, scrunchies, and Doc Martens. The picture’s not quite so accurate with the mesh, but the color of the jeans, the clashing primary blue and red plaid, the careless knot which is off center just-so—it’s all so meticulously careless.
Chunky sneakers, powder-blue jeans, a billowy concert t-shirt, and Dad’s flannel tied around the waist or hanging off the shoulders like a cape was the only sartorial context in which boys my age lived our lives. I dressed like that every day for most of elementary and middle school, and seeing it again right in front of me triggered the involuntary wince I get when I see old pictures of myself.
Luckily I don’t dress like a crazy person anymore.
