Just a short post in reply to this week's Carnivale topic.
Over at Sense of Soot, the prompt was:
The Topic is Torturous Fashion, and not the kind you tried, hated, and discarded. Oh no, we're going deeper into the dark corners than that, my dumplings. There is something you have owned, a style you have loved with a masochism unparalleled. We'd adore a picture of the wicked object of your agonized affection, but you must at least confess what fashion item hurt you, and why you continued wearing it in your twisted triumph and shame.
And this outfit from my freshman year of high school just popped into my head. Black sleeveless hoodie. Beige Aeropostale shorts with drawstring. Black knee-high combat boots. The colors and types are slightly off, but I imagine it looked something like this:
If that isn't torture and shame, I don't know what is.
I have no idea why I ever wore this in public! Or how I ever got away with it in my public high school where, I seem to recall, a strict dress code was always enforced. Alas, what people must have thought of me! And can I blame them?
But I did outgrow this 'look' if you can call it that. I don't remember when or why, but I'm glad that my self knew enough to evolve!
[EDIT: ... I had my first boyfriend the year this outfit appeared. What the hell? Boy, the allowances in fashion in the 1990's!]