I also know that the anti-fashion brigade can come across as so many old has-beens who have no need to attract a mate and so can afford the luxury of saving effort and money on this. My feeling that fashion is one big con is, however, partly a lament for the days of punk, I mean the early days, before shops tried to cash in on safety pins.
At the Stowaway club in Newport, on a Wednesday night each week, kids with little cash and no feeling of belonging to the establishment, came to punk gigs wearing jumble sale clothes, uncovered spots and an attitude of “So fucking what!?” we all had a great time, let off a bit of steam and found ways of surviving the late 70s…
Nowadays I find that almost my entire wardrobe is bought from a charity shop, instead of jumble sale junk and a leather jacket of dubious origin – but I have suits as well, for work. This is my anti-fashion compromise, profiting from the profligacy of others.
I may buy clothes that are deemed to be in the right basic fashion bracket for my age – but I don’t change them because some “trendsetter” says “button down collars are out” – or “that style of coat is so last year” – I call Bullshit to that. Clothes are for wearing, until worn out, and we westerners have seen the results of ever increasing pressures to have fashion clothing we can consume voraciously – dead children in burned out sweat shops in India/Pakistan.
The Punks I was pogoing alongside back in 1977 are watching you Topshopprimarkgeorge new-clothes-each-month brigade and seeing shallowness on a scale that is quite shameful.
If the call to “grow up” means, copy those teenagers of the late 70s in rebelling against this blinding blandness of the soul, get your kicks by rejecting this consumerist bullshit and truly celebrate your independence – then…
“F*+*ing Grow up!”