It could be something you owned, something you saw on someone else (either in person or in the movies). Something so wonderful or so horrible that you will never forget it.
For me, it’s a sateen bowling jacket. I saw it on a really cheap, tough girl—think Mean Rosie Greenbaum from Laverne and Shirley. The jacket was livid pink, and sewn on the back, in scrolled letters, was, “WILFRED ACADEMY OF BEAUTY BOWLING TEAM.” Scattered across the jacket was a motif of mascara wands and bowling pins.
I was transfixed. I wanted to rip the jacket right off her (except she so obviously could’ve mopped up the floor with me) and whisk it right off to John Waters for use in his next movie. Must’ve been 20 years ago, and when I close my eyes I can still see that wonderfully horrible jacket . . .
When I worked in a fabric shop, a 60+year-old woman who was a regular customer came in wearing her latest creation, made from a kelly green cotton featuring white kittens wearing little red bows. She had made a blouse, pants, turban, earrings, totebag and a cover for the neck brace she wore…all from that one truly horrible juvenile fabric. She made many other similar ensembles over the years, but the green with kittens is the one I still see in my nightmares.
Years ago I saw a woman wearing an outfit that I can only describe as “Exceedingly Nautical” at the mall (and please forgive my rather feeble attempt at fashion sketching there. Also, she was caucasion (I accidently dipped my brush in my coffee)). Had a little waistcoat with those little epaulet things on the shoulders, a bunch of medals on the chest, a matching purse with an anchor on it. I guess if a theme is worth doing, it’s worth overdoing.
Now that I think about it maybe she was one of those folks who dress up like anime charactors. Sort of looks a little like somebody you’d see on Robotech.
I had to go to a Disco party once, and a friend lent me some shoes. They had been her sister’s, I think (she was the youngest of a huge family) and they were clogs. Not just any clogs. They were huge, with rounded tops almost like you were wearing two bowling balls on your feet. And they were green with glitter embedded in it.
They were beyond belief. I wish I could have kept them.
I almost bought a bright yellow pair of slacks and matching shirt from Ward’s once but decided I didn’t want to blind anyone. I got the black slacks and black shirt with gold pinstripes instead. I also bought a pair of white slacks at the same time but those have since been ruined in the wash, one leg got hung up between the tub and the frame.
My oldest brother graduated from high school in 1973 and my mother still has his prom pictures from that year. He is wearing:
White polyester tuxedo jacket with black piping around the collar and button holes.
Maroon polyester slacks
Maroon and white shoes that look like deeply blushing saddle shoes (the toe and heel are white, the vamp is maroon velvet)
A white shirt with a very, very ruffly front. The ruffles have maroon edges.
A black butterfly bowtie that looks to be about 5" wide at the tips
Hair that resembles what about a dozen Brillo pads would look like if they were ironed flat and glued to his head (he had very coarse, thick black hair - think of a Labrador Retriever wearing a fur coat made out of another Labrador Retriever’s hide).
Combine that with a girl in a light blue prom dress, wearing blue eyeshadow, and a BIG bouffant hairdo and you’re talking quintessential early 70s.
We never fail to pull that picture out at Christmas time and laugh at him after we’ve all had a few too many drinks.
Oh, your poor brother! Do you think that in 100 or 500 years, even those photos will be cooed over like we do with Victorian portraits? There is just no excuse for the 1970s . . .
I wore to my high school senior ball in 1975 an almost flourescent orange tuxedo. The jacket, pants, and shoes were bright orange, the shirt and cumberbund were pastel orange. The trim and bow tie were navy blue. Add to that long fuzzy blond hair that hung below my shoulders. I was voted best dressed. That is a sad commentary on mid 70’s fashion.
I can still feel on my skin the beige/brown/white plaid double-knit polyester pleated skirt and dark brown polyester double-knit blazer I wore for four years as my high school uniform. Yick.
Also the berry-colored ensemble my sister had (each class had a different color scheme).
I once owned a purple cord skirt, purple batwing top and purple tights that I wore to my school disco when I was about thirteen. I topped off this stunning combination with a good brush of purple mascara. I’m not sure if I should have forgiven my parents for ever letting me out of the house looking as I did, forunately there were no photos
My grandmother gave me a pair of slacks when I was in sixth grade, the first ones I was ever allowed to wear to school. They were vibrant green and yellow plaid. A very large plaid at that. Hideous, but I loved them anyway.
Well, just today I saw a girl that I wanted to call the fashion police on. I was hoping the fashion police would give her a good beating before arresting her.
The girl was probably 5’3 or 5’4. She had a pretty face and probably would be a nice looking girl except for what she was wearing. First, she had an amazingly bright multi-colored skin hugging top on. I mean neon colors bright enough to blind you for a second kind of top. Second she had on hip hugger shorts that were so short there was absolutely nothing left to imagine. Third, and this is what made the vision really disturbing, she had on platform shoes with like a 3 or 4 inch heels in the back. The shoes made her walk in such a way that it seemed she had a rod up her backside, her back was bent in a very unnatrual way and her breasts were preceding her by feet. It was just downright wrong.
I commented to a guy standing next to me something along the line of “Man, did you see her?”. He said yes and then a woman right next to me said “My God, how can she walk? And why does she think that is sexy?”. I just shook my head and walked away.
I am hoping I can get this girls image out of my mind. EWWWWW.
There’s this guy-well, he’s a drag queen-who comes into Kmart. I say drag queen because he’s really flashy and over the top. And hey, more power to him and all, but his fashion sense SUCKS. Purple lipstick, tan make up that creaks into extra wrinkles. Gold sparkly spandex dresses with black crocheted lace tops over them with fringe around the bottom, major jewelry.
And worst of all-fake boobs so big that even in a heavy wool sweater, the fake nipples poke out.
Please don’t think I’m bashing this guy because he dresses like a woman.
I’m bashing him because he dresses as a woman-HORRIBLY!!! He needs some style tips. ASAP.
Thank God you said 1973…I was about to ask you if your brother’s name is Joe! Though my hair wasn’t very bouffant, and I couldn’t put on the eyeshadow until I’d left the house (strict mother) this pretty much describes my prom picture too.
This is one I love, from a snapshot of my parents right after they were married:
Mom is wearing a black-and-white boat-neck top, black capris, and a teeny ladies wristwatch. She’s got a pixie style haircut and bright red lipstick. Dad is wearing a white cotton button-down oxford and khaki pants, and one of those rectangular wristwatches with the really thick crystals. They’re playing ping-pong, obviously doubles against friends, because they’re both on the same side of the table.
The pic was taken at a resort in the Adirondacks in the 1950s. There’s a really cool old-fashioned Coke machine in the background. I love that pic, and I wish I could link to it or something, but my folks would kill me if I put pics of them on the Internet. But those clothes are forever in my brain.
Mum insisted on choosing what I was wearing each day until I rebelled at about age 13, her fashion sense and mine never gelled.
In particular I recall in the mid 80’s a hidious pink ‘balloon’ dress with white trim on the collar, cuffs and the bottom. On one occasion I was even forced to wear matching pink plastic shoes YUK YUK YUK.
Just last year we had to talk mum out of making a tie dyed velour caftan for herself (according to Vogue magazine it was the height of fashion). Actually it was my Aunt who talked her out of it - she took mum to a restaurant that had a couch fitted out in the same fabric and said “That is what you will look like!” worked a treat
Ah, this brings back memories of my favourite jacket of all time. Mid-to-late-eighties, I had a man’s black overcoat jacket (think flasherwear) that I wore with a couple of pins (an elephant, a lovely fake diamond brooch, and whatever else I could scrounge up) on the left side. I thought I was the absolute hottest punk around in my black overcoat. Come to think of it, I want another jacket like that one. It was so cool.
