Punk by Proxy

I was invited to a clothing swap several months ago, where people who have more fashion in their little toe share their cast-offs with the clothing clueless such as myself. I took a bag of clothes to give away, but no one wanted any of them. One was a professional outfit I bought in the early 1990s, probably designed in the late 1980s, complete with shoulder pads. Someone modeled it (I no longer can fit into it) but no one took it home. In the words of another participant: "Yeah, I think we all had that substitute teacher."

There were bags and bags of leftover clothes. Some were saved for next year, in the hopes that someone will then both fit into and wear with pride items like the red leather pants with a dragon blazoned across the butt. Practical things were sent to The Spouse's hospital workplace to be given away. The rest? Donated.

Of course, I went home with two bags of clothes, and hopefully enough courage to wear them. I'm a conservative dresser, but truth is I wish I were a punk. I dyed part of my hair purple a few months ago but... no one noticed. Disappointing, to say the least.