I live in what easily may well be the anti-fashion capitol of the world. I see punks with the Black and Decker facial jewelry look, people dressed up in brighter colors than a traffic cone, old people dressing too young, young people (girls in particular) dressing way, way too old, tourists who don't know better in shorts and t-shirts freezing their ass off waiting for the cable car to take them down to Fisherman's Wharf, where its going to be even colder - and just about everything in between.
Most of the time it does not matter, its all just part of the passing parade, and if they are doing it to amuse me, well, they are doing a damn good job. But there is, at some points, time where one ought to think about what's appropriate, or, at least understand the ramifications of not doing so.
Like when we were out on Warp Tour and in Kansas and Ohio, and LaborTemps or some such company sent us out guys to load the trucks and they were wearing sandals. (really, I'm not kidding) - and it's like "OK, you people go stand over there and smoke cigarettes and play with your water bottles cause you sure as hell are not going to load band equipment on a 53 foot trailer dressed like that."
Or, perhaps my favorite, I was at the super trendy club here in SF called Ten15, and it has a dress code. And when the girl was loudly complaining when she was not let in "because this is just who I am" the doorman looked at her and said, "Well, we don't let in people dressed like that, and that's just who we are."
A friend of mine I think said it best when he told me that "all of life is a costume party, you just have to know who is writing the invitation."
