Every Friday night RHU will feature a reblog post from longtime RHU Blogger Benjmain Kissell, who has a blog of his own called, Dead Lines and Bon Mots! Benjamin also has four stories in RHU's E-book collection that took place during his days at Border's Bookstore. Although he still works in the service industry, the Friday night posts will be more about his reflections on life and different subjects.
Soon we will be adding more voices on RHU, writing about current events or topical issues. If you'd like to write a weekly editorial for RHU, let me know at my email: email@example.com
This week Benjamin is caught up in his love of 90's fashion. I think we can all relate! What era of fashion is your fave?
[aka my fashion sense stalled in the 1990's and yes, I'm aware of the amount of shredded denim this implies I own]
Preach it Cher Horowitz: the epitome of uber cool 1990s fashion
[and by extension, what I've subscribed to ever since ...]
"Honey; it's like Dylan walking into the Peach Pit"
"Wait ... um, is that good?"
"Well, it's accurate if that's what you're asking."
This is the conversation my wonderful boyfriend fiance John and I have as we walk into our favorite 1950's retro-style Greek/American diner, Tito's. [Why yes, I realize how weird that sounds - mediterranean food AND a 1950's flair? But, it works. Trust me.] He says this not looking at anything on the walls or tvs. No, he says this whilst looking directly at me and giving me a once-over.
I'm currently sporting shredded faded jeans, kn0ck-off converse sneakers and a dark grey form-fitting t-shirt and the ubiquitous Aviator frame sunglasses - my long-sleeve plaid grey/black/pink shirt was left behind due to the sudden arrival of late spring's heat and humidity.
Despite my love of the 80's for cartoons, toys and comic books I am a 90's kid when it comes to my personal fashion.
In fact, my fashion style would best be described as an outgrowth of my surviving 1997-2000 wardrobe [you think I'm joking, but I'm not] ... including shredded jeans, plaid flannel overshirts and, of course, oversized as well as form-fitting band/movie t-shirts. Think Nirvana crossed with No Doubt combined with Natalie Imbruglia with a Kabbalah Madonna touch [you know, for the spiritual depth and denim jackets].
If one had to hazard a guess, the movie Clueless obviously had a MASSIVE influence on me [for good or ill, you decide]. Grunge? Oversized jeans with tight-fitting t-shirts? Over-sized t-shirts with cargo pants? Shredded jeans with sweaters? Preppy chic? Clueless has it all! As a consequence of seeing the movie I wanted it all, and I wanted to fit in. I was a short and skinny kid with BIIIIIIIIIIG hair who was picked on routinely so this brilliant window onto the world of 'cool' gave me insight into how I could (possibly) stem the tide of almost daily name-calls and fisticuffs.
I've chosen to opt for comfort and personal style over continuously changing fashion [some would call it cheap, I prefer to think of it as cool that I can still wear many of the clothes I wore in my teens/early twenties now in my early thirties]. In an effort to 'update' I've pruned my ever-expansive wardrobe recently, donating over a third of said clothes to either GoodWill or friends [Daddy loves you, Maeghan, in his old shirts!] when I moved in with my boyfriend fiance.
Of course, this (awesome) personal style comes with a price. A label has begun to circulate amongst folks. A nickname of sorts. One which began in the mid-2000's with whispers about Aberzombies ...
Okay, you know what? I dressed like this before it was cool [and yes, I realize how Hipster that sounds ... bite me]. Even my best friend, bless Nate's heart, has been so forward as to describe me as the "grandfather of hipsters" for YEARS because of my almost ever-present combination of thick-rimmed glasses and knitted caps . It's true, I've been so used to my ubiquitous jeans and tees with splashes of plaid that I've practically stalled my fashion development and have been in a rut long enough that it makes sense to liken me to a grandfather.
- I don't like your music, young people [dubstep - ewww]
- I don't like the way you just hang out in cafes and whatnot instead of getting jobs or at least going places other than the nearest wi-fi hotspot.
- Seriously, I'm all for tattoos and holes in heads, but ... um ... mightn't you want to remember that these things can get infected and if the state of your hair is any indiction that infection is due sooner rather than later so please do me a favor and don't come near me as I'm going to assume you're Patient Zero.
- I'm totally okay with shaking my fist - and possibly a broom or rake - at you in an effort to get you to JUST STOP LOUNGING AROUND IN THE PARKING LOT SMOKING YOUR F#@KING CLOVE CIGARETTES AND GETTING ASHES AND TRASH ON MY CAR!
And that? Is okay. I'm comfortable with this knowledge. I am self-aware. I love what I wear [HAH - admit it, that was funny ... no? Just me?]. I'm also okay with having to explain that 'No, I'm not being ironic ... I just dress this way because I found a look in 1997 - three years before you were born - and have stuck with it' to random hipsters [and Hot Topic kiddies: I shopped the house down when many of you weren't even born yet and am still wearing that indie-esque swag. Of course, most of the Hot Topic kids have crossed from emo/rock/punk wannabes to full on hipsters ... so, this side-point is moot] who look at me askance.
To be honest, it wouldn't be the worst idea in the universe if I took a chance and probably should embrace a little change in my fashion - I could add new things to it that step outside of my comfort zone. But, unless one of you sells me out, I don't see myself ending up on What Not To Wear to make that happen.
Selfie circa 2008 - PLAID is totally the new black. As are rainbow scarves and Kabbalah bracelets, apparently
After all, to quote my friend Brittany Scott, I've "been the height of hipster fashion since hipsters were in elementary school wearing un-ironic clothing without beards or PBR."