If you’ve ever had your fifteen minuets of fame, you might agree that it really does feel like the briefest of moments, whether it was out in the real world or online. I’ve had finite experiences in both worlds, finding that I ultimately don’t like an overabundance of attention, positive or not. In fact, I’ve never been so uncomfortable as I was when I attended an upscale fashion show in Toronto, Ontario. It was hosted in some fancy hall, within a large hotel. The main area was populated by representatives from firms spanning the known world of fashion; names such as Hilfiger, Ralph Lauren and so on. I had arrived at this event without any prior planning, taking up a “plus one” offer at the last moment. I was dressed in torn off denim shorts, worn over my plaid pajama pants, with an early era, black bear lined leather trench coat from the Sears Men’s line over a ratty hoodie, topped with a toque I had studded. Every designer approached me by the end of the night, asking who I was representing. Each took a long, incredulous look at me when I told them “Nobody. I just dress this way.”. I think it’s the most direct attention I’ve ever received in the real world, aside from a couple public speaking engagements that I half assed and the time some restaurant owner mistook me for being in “Ill Scarlet”, whoever that is. I prefer poetry, as I doubt more than a couple hundred people will ever express interest at any one time. It’s also harder for people to criticize poetry, which is comforting. I wouldn’t mind another free burger though…. If for whatever reason you’ve read this entire ramble, I apologize. There really wasn’t any specific point.
P.S. That jacket fell apart years ago, but I saved the patches for my jean jacket. It’s hand stitched and it was won as part of the prize at the very first “Guess Jeans Invitational Rodeo” by my father, a former Rookie of the Year and certified professional bull rider. Its’ style model is one and it’s among the first jackets that Guess ever made (possibly the first produced).
For someone who is rather shameless in my attention seeking, this is one of the more amusing anecdotes I’ve heard in a long time. Your description of the outfit left me staring blankly at a wall, trying to piece it all together — there’s certainly a lot going on.
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I dress like I raided the Salvation Army bin and decided to wear it all at once. I might have had a suit jacket on as well, between the sweater and coat. It was during Nuit Blanche, and it was rather chilly outside. I also forgot I was wearing hob nailed police boots from the late1800’s/early 1900’s. It’s truly hard to imagine, I’ll agree.