don't knock it till you try it: ironic fashion

"Irony is an attitude that is best expressed orally, not sartorially." --Hadley Freeman, The Meaning of Sunglasses

I'm not sure that I agree with Hadley, because I have long been a dedicated advocate of ironic style. (Can you spot the cutesy Kinks reference I so painstakingly tried to obscure?) I got started in high school, trying all the usual things, like tacky vintage dresses, polyester man pants and "I'm not fat, I'm pregnant" maternity t-shirts from the 80s. Hilarious!

Ironic fashion was pretty much a given at arts high school, so when a fellow classmate admired my "I'm Proud to be a Christian!" t-shirt I didn't think for a second that she'd taken the message seriously. "I know," I said, "isn't it great?!?" She agreed that it was, and then asked me if was interested in joining her bible study group. I declined her invitation, feeling both guilty (I tricked an earnest Christian with my shirt! I'm going to hell...) and indignant (Jesus, it's obviously a joke!).

I really hit my stride in college, where I was surrounded by peers who were also interested in making cultural statements through their wardrobes. At this point I dismissed much of my clothing from high school as "too obvious" and began to search the DAV thrift store for more subtle fare.

For example, I recall with some embarrassment my dubious obsession with the little boys' clothing department--an untapped resource, as far as I was concerned. This exploration started innocently enough (the shrunken striped polo shirts were reasonably "indie rock" and that hockey sweatshirt from Inver Grove Heights was almost acceptable) but it quickly spiraled into absurdity.

For example, I remember purchasing not one but three tiny mesh basketball jerseys during a burst of thrift-store induced mania. I was convinced that I was going to start a hilarious new trend. I remember wearing one of the jerseys to a party, believing my style to be very advanced and expecting appreciative comments. But no one said anything about it, and I started to question my motives. What was I trying to prove with my witty little outfits? Was my silly clothing an attempt to distract people from the fact that I had an underdeveloped personality? Did this have something to do with my failure to convince [_____] to date me?

Then I got another five drinks and put those questions out of my mind. I spent the greater part of my 20s wandering around thrift stores and estate sales, obsessively adding to my collection of 70s sunglasses from France, West Germany and Austria.

But at some point in the past couple years, I had to take a hard look at things. Much in the way that drunken displays that can be written off as "cute" in one's early 20s (they can, right?) turn into "sad and pathetic" as one gets a little older, it seems there comes a time when ironic fashion stops being amusing and starts heading into train-wreck territory. Personal style needs to evolve over time, I think. (And it's obvious when it doesn't. I wrote and then deleted a couple things about "aging scenesters" and "cool moms" because they seemed too mean...but you can probably imagine what I'm talking about.)

Not that I think one needs to give in and start wearing pantsuits from Ann Taylor every day (although that could be very funny!!), but merely that one needs to foster enough self-awareness to notice if one is becoming a caricature of oneself.