As a teacher, I see teenagers often, and I can’t help but laugh to myself when I see one wearing a rock t-shirt or a funky hairdo, or even just black nail polish. Nothing changes. I did that. People before me did that. And People before those “People” did it too. Fashion rebellion that is simply a repeat of other rebellions before you.
I miss rebelling.
There is nothing more boring than mommy clothes. Comfortable yes, but boring, hell to the yes. How can snot stained, smushed food, cried on clothes be interesting? These celebrities that look so polished look polished because they don’t do much hands on activities with their children.
This said, I thought I might pay homage to some of my interesting fashion choices.
Like fringe jackets? What the fuck was I thinking? Suede fringe jackets like I was a damn Native American smoking the peace pipe. Really, truly, just a fashion no-no that should stay in the closet forever.
What about that terrible black eyeliner? I mean, a little black eyeliner works, but the whole “around the eye” look made me look like I had been doing heroin. I wasn’t. I was too busy doing self-deprecation. When you are as pale as me, you are better off not ringing your eyes with black so you can look like a street junkie.
Or what about that terrible flannel phase? Was I a lumberjack? A male pioneer from Little House on the Prairie? No, I was a teenage girl the size of a tall midget wearing baggy flannel. A terrible, awful, no-good t-shirt!
I’d like to mock my combat boots, but they were actually good in all weather-terrain, and great nut-kickers, so to my combat boots, I salute you!
Any heavy metal t-shirt I wore was also pretty horrific. Skulls are not cute, nor are skulls with eyeballs protruding out. Some could debate this, but I for one feel they should be buried forever and ever…infinity!
Also, the knee-high boots! I know those came back in fashion but, seriously? I wasn’t Robin Hood or Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. I also wasn’t trudging along wading water. Those things were hideous.
I thought I was being different. My friends thought they were being different. We weren’t. We were teens trying to find themselves, and the same looks pass themselves on generation after generation. I had a student look at me oddly when I asked if he was wearing an AC/DC t-shirt. What, like I wouldn’t know the band? He wasn’t even born when “Those about to Rock” came out. Yet like every teen before and after him, we all felt like those songs, bands, or albums…or fashion styles were meant for us, and only us. That no one else could understand or live through what we were living through. And for some of us, we were truly living through some bad stuff.
I will never forget what it felt like to be 15. Maybe that’s why I’m a good teacher.