The best thing about being rich and important is the fact that you can make people dress up in ridiculous clothing. Just look at these guys in Spain. They’re saying “Look at me in my silly pants. Don’t I look stupid?”
I actually kind of like those pants. But I bet you those guys have friends at home that laugh at them and make fun of them. Unless they’re rich. When you’re rich, you can wear anything you like and get away with it. The camera men will take your picture and call it fashion no matter how stupid you look, because you’re rich and famous.
Look at this rich and famous guy. He’s getting paid to look silly
You can only get away with an outfit like this if you are in an elite social class. When I was 16, I did not know this.
I had a fashion sense of my own, and I just don’t think the people of Denison, TX were ready for high fashion such as mine.
This one time, My sister Clementine was going to Deep Ellum with her boyfriend, Mikey. Since I was paying for the gasoline, they were going to let me tag along.
Before it was taken over by Yuppies and totally ruined, Deep Ellum was this artsy Punk Rock Downtown area of Dallas. They had cool shops, and these outside vendors that sold the coolest jewelry in the world. We weren’t actually old enough to get into the clubs, but it was still loads of fun.
If you went there, though, you had to look as punk rock as possible so that you wouldn’t be considered a trendy.
Trendy: A yuppie prep conservative who is just wearing new waver clothing to follow a fashion trend.
Clementine wore her ripped fishnet panty hose with some thuggish looking outfit. Mikey wore a mohawk, a Fugazi T-Shirt, shorts, and bright yellow Doc Martens boots that went halfway up his shins.
Somehow, they were cool and I was not. What I wore that day, went down into their hysterical deed recollection bin and the “Clotilda Fashion Story” was told over and over again at parties and other social events. They did not think it was a punk rock outfit, they just thought it was absolutely hysterical.
I wore a 1950s bathing suit that I got out of my grandmother’s closet. She wore it one time, was scared to death of the water, fish and snakes, and never went swimming again.
The bathing suit looked like this one:
It was made from thick black rayon. I wore it with black and white striped tights, like the wicked witch of the west
I thought I looked punk rock. If I had been Paris Hilton instead of Clotilda Spampacker back then I might have just got my picture put in Vogue magazine. Instead, I was the laughing stock of Denison, TX. They almost didn’t take me to Deep Ellum in that outfit. They let me tag along, but they made fun of me all night long. Then they told everyone all about my silly outfit, like it was some sort of a joke.
It’s just not fair. Look at these ladies, they are just walking around town in their 1950s bathing suits. Nobody’s laughing at them. They even got their picture in the Wall Street Journal.
They can get away with it too because they’re rich.
I wonder if they really are rich, or if they just look rich because of their silly clothes.