This weekend my mom and I drove past a yard sale happening on Orange Street, and despite the searing heat, pulled over for a high speed gander. Boxes overflowing with lampshades, trinkets and junk had been dragged into a cement courtyard, along with a couple of rails of – to be honest – horrid, synthetic clothing. Such is the case with things like yard sales. Whilst half heartedly digging through a box I found these miraculous pants that had my colleagues staring at me in silence all day (I’d pretend it was reverence, but I think it’s closer to disbelief or rather, misunderstanding – read: ignorance).
They looked like a massive pair of Thai fishing pants with a drawstring and an African-inspired print – not at all my style – but something told me to buy them, even if just for mooching around the house. I think it was that very small (miniscule) part of me that sometimes envies these easy going, ankle-bracelet-wearing hippie type girls that breeze around in similarly uncomplex clothes…
Anywho. When I got home I put them on and was delighted with the effect. They remind me a little of Jean-Charles de Castelbajac’s recent ethnic-inspired collection (Uber Tropikal Airlines), and, as I told my mom, they have that fashion editor quality to them – edgy, unassuming, unforgettable. I wore them to work yesterday with an oversized Trenery t-shirt, my Daniella bondage heels and my silver shongololo necklace (another fashion editoresque piece – yes, I know it’s weird, but it really is true!)
You know how people get very verbal when they like something you’re wearing? And then conversely very quiet when they don’t? Well, it was one of those days. I always take a measure of perverse delight in these silent days, because it means that a degree of fashion rebellion has taken place. The only person to compliment my Martin Luther King culottes (as they will henceforth be known) was our Creative Director, who herself is often treated to these silent days. Double win! Great minds think alike, I say.
I really enjoyed wearing them. I could feel sneaky glances alighting upon my derriere all day long, as people tried to assess their strangeness, catalogue them. Nope. Nothing comes to mind. They are simply bizarre, and I love them for it. The fact that they are also, I later realised, emblazoned with Martin Luther King’s face, just adds to their wondrous weirdness.
Got anything similarly strange but unforgettable? Something other people don’t get? Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org – I’d love to hear about your freaky favourites!