Tag Archives: fashion

Awkward Pop Culture Memories

PA’s blog is always great and this thread brought back some funny memories:


Like a lot of American boys in the younger Gen X cohort, I went through a cringe-worthy embarassing stage, from about 12-15, that I did my best to forget, but now approaching fogey-hood I can at least look back at it with some self-depreciating humor. It was at this stage I was desperate to be “cool” and my instincts for what was “cool” were astonishingly wrong-headed.

I had a couple of older guys I looked up to and thought were “cool” so did my best to ape their sensibilities, especially in terms of pop culture. I figured that if I dressed a certain way, got a certain haircut, and listened to a particular type of music I would be “cool.”

Of course the opposite happened, I turned myself into a complete dork. I was subjected to a certain amount of peer pressure which I went along with because, well, I was a 14 year old.

The first bad 80s crap I desperately wanted to be involved in was … god, I’m so embarassed to admit this … “punk.” For whatever crazy reason, I saw those bands with weird hair and weird clothes as “cool” and one of the older guys I looked up to had a sort of “New Wave” style and listened to punk rock. So I figured if I did the same thing I would be cool, too.

Hello, dorksville.

It was weird too because punk was already old and no one really liked it anymore but for some reason I’ll never understand, I was just convinced it was the “modern” thing. I was always 10 years behind the times, even then.

The funny part was I actually hated punk rock. The kind of music I listened to because I actually enjoyed it? Hank Williams Jr., AC/DC, Tom Petty and the Talking Heads. But, no, I wanted to be cool, so I actually spent a lot of time listening to the worst band of the 1980s, Black Flag. I actually thought there must be something wrong with me, because all the “cool” kids seemed to love Black Flag, and I thought it was unlistenable garbage – which it was. The Clash had like one good song but it was so overplayed I got sick of it quickly.

I so wanted to look like Sid Vicious, but I suspect it actually came across more like The Village People, Junior League.

How did I ever think this was cool?

Movies were the same way. The “cool” kids thought that A Clockwork Orange was the greatest movie ever. It wasn’t. It was pretty bad, honestly. Not terrible as far as “serious” “thinking” movies go. I’ll go ahead and scandalize hard core film fans, but Eyes Wide Shut and The Shining were Kubrick’s best films and the rest – even 2001 – weren’t particularly great (2001’s ending was just a punt that failed miserably.)

I love Heathers, one of my favorite movies, but my attempts at playing Christian Slater’s JD likely reached nuclear levels of dorkiness.

I was desperate to not be “metal” because those were “rednecks” – “redneck” was a slur I learned from a friend and always associated it with the wrong crowd. My friend’s parents got divorced and he was separated from his upper-middle class yuppie father and had to live with his Christian mom and his step-father, an uneducated blue collar guy from the rural south. So everyone bad was a “redneck” and I somehow associated long haired “heavy metal” types with rednecks.

But, I actually liked heavy metal. Megadeth, Slayer, that stuff was pretty good – far better than the “punk rock” which was utter shit. But, no, I wanted to be cool.

Fortunately, at 16, I kind of “gave up” trying to be cool. I stopped cutting my hair and grew it long, way past my shoulders, like any good Viking. I stopped listening to music I hated and started listening to what I liked. While it likely had more to do with actually reaching puberty (and getting a driver’s license) than it did my fashion sense and musical choices, coincidentally at 16 I actually started getting attention from girls and I didn’t even have to wear those ridiculous Doc Marten’s anymore.

Margie: 90’s Neo-Bohemia

Then, what do you know, “grunge” happened. All of a sudden I was cool and I didn’t even have to try! Flannel shirts were no longer “redneck” they were actually fashionable. Heavy music with actual melodies, played with some amount of talent, all of a sudden made that Black Flag shit fade off into the background. Grunge was the perfect mix of metal and the kind of “New Wave” quirk I actually, honestly liked. Alice and Chains was pure heavy metal but also “alternative” to some degree.

And, yeah, while I still maintained a thing for Winona Ryder and Molly Ringwald “manic pixie dream girl” types, I actually found that it was a lot of fun dating normal, blonde haired, blue eyed lifeguards, regular good girls from church that might let you kiss them by never get past second base, and even those conventionally pretty gals that had a sort of 90s “neo-bohemian” earth mother style, which basically meant they didn’t perm their hair and wore hippie skirts with no panties.

Ah, the 90s were awesome. The last best decade before America went to hell in a handbasket.

The Explicit Whiteness of Goth

There is some anti-white troll on AltRight.com that calls himself “Gothic Joe” and is supposedly into the “goth scene.” Me, personally, I’m not into the “goth scene” and never have been, although I do like some of the music and music that is closely related, like industrial.

But I do have to admit I’ve had a long kind of fascination with and obsession with “goth chicks.”

I just like the style – the “Suicide Girl” thing. I totally have the hots for women who dress up in “Dominatrix” types outfits. No, I’m not at all a “sub” and don’t get off to being “topped” by a Dominatrix – my sexuality tends to go the opposite direction, to be blunt. Watching the dominatrix slowly yield and turn into a submissive puppy is really, really hot.

I just like the boots, the leather, the little, subtle “restraints” that they wear. And the more these goth chicks dress up like Dommes, the more you know they are total submissives in private.

There is of course a HUGE element of BDSM in the “goth scene” – they are practically synonymous in many people’s minds. Goth tends to be a place where suburban girls can sort of “experiment” with BDSM fashion – and sex – while just making it a sort of “style” and “play.”

Probably the two biggest “goth” acts that went mainstream in the last 20 years were Nine Inch Nails (great) and Marilyn Manson (lame.) Both acts filled their videos and stage shows with hints of BDSM. Marilyn Manson’s video for his cover of “Tainted Love” (ironically, a Motown song by a Black woman that was also covered by the White “New Wave” band Soft Cell in the 1980s, an exception that proves the rule) was a pretty good short film full of that sort of style with plenty of suburban degeneracy – and it was full out “racist” too, Manson’s “goth thugs” were the “alphas” over the Blacks and Wiggers and White preppies – and turned the Cheerleader into a Suicide Girl at the end. It’s cute, not to be taken seriously, but still kind of cute.

Anyway I got into it with “Gothic Joe” by pointing out just how WHITE the goth scene is. Like all “alternative” subculture scenes, it’s a way for White people to SEGREGATE themselves from mainstream integrated society. Consider the original “alternative” scene of the 1990s. The mainstream pop music at the time was heavily dominated by Black artists – Prince, Michael Jackson, and a host of black and brown women “divas.” Even the metal scene, long a bastion of uber-whiteness, had started incorporating hip hop and featuring Black lead singers.

Then along comes “grunge” – the Whitest of the White – based on bands in uber-White Seattle. What distinguished “grunge” music like Nirvana and Pearl Jam from the mainstream pop music of the time?

The complete, 100% absence of ANY black musical influence. Grunge even took it farther by cutting out the guitar solos lest there be any hint of even a light skinned, white presetning Black guitar hero like Jimi Hendrix!

I was at the very first Lollapolloza in the 1990s – I think the only Black person at the entire festival was the lead singer of Living Color.

Goth is much the same way. One of the earliest and most influential “goth” bands was England’s Bauhaus. Look at the band, watch their videos, listen to their music. It’s whiter than white. Over the top theatrical even, lots of references to theater culture – another bastion of whiteness.

If you go to any major city in America and want to go out dancing, and you want to be sure the scene will be 99.99% White people? Go to the goth nightclub. Because the scene is so White, the women feel much safer to go all out, dress really sexy, get drunk and be exhibitionist. They do NOT feel as safe in a mixed race environment. Of course no one will admit it – they will all point to the single token Black goth – likely gay, thus not a threat to the women. But everyone knows the deal.

Also, the goth scene tends to be very Catholic I’ve noticed, and had goth friends say the same thing to me. Goth’s “dark” and even “satanic” image is really just based on the darker side of Catholicism itself. Of course even the name is based on the architectural style of old Catholic cathedrals. Yes, there’s a certain kind of pagan element to it, but it’s the same pagan element embedded in Catholicism itself. So that means the goth scene is also relatively kosher-free (hint, hint.)

I’m pro-White and of course support White people having our own cultural spaces where we are free to be us, express our own inner selves and our own culture. Goth is rather silly and often pretty goofy – but it is sincerely white.

Creeping up the backstairs
Slinking into dark stalls
Shapeless and slumped in bath chairs
Furtive eyes peep out of holes

She has many guises
She’ll do what you want her to
Playing dead and sweet submission
Cracks the whip deadpan on cue

Reeking like a pigsty
Peeling back and gagging free
Flaccid ego in your hand
Chokes on dry tears, can you understand?

She’s jeering at the shadows
Sneering behind a smile
Lunge and thrust to pout and pucker
Into the face of the beguiled

Peek-a-boo (Golly jeepers)
Peek-a-boo (Where’d you get those peepers?)
Peek-a-boo (Peepshow, creepshow)
Peek-a-boo (Where did you get those eyes?)
Strobe lights pump and flicker
Dry lips crack out for more
Come bite …

Women don’t want their grievances fixed, you silly boys. They want them heard.

Women don’t want their grievances fixed, you silly boys. They want them heard.


I swear I’m not making this up.

My girlfriend at the time, a Hillary loving, NPR listening, hardcore “outside of the bedroom” feminist, stereotypical liberal – no, not one of those idealistic Bernie Sanders people, but a practical minded type that went with the mainstream of the Democratic party – she actually explained to me, way, way back in 2007, that tampons should be “free” – meaning, paid for collectively by the taxpayer, not individual women.

The logic apparently went something like this: women have periods but men don’t, and that’s not fair, so the government should pay for tampons.

I thought this was crazy, and like the clueless man that I am, I mansplained about how taxes work which just made her angrier that I didn’t get it.

She voted for Hillary in 2008 and hated the fact Obama won so much she actually did vote Green, but only because in New York it didn’t matter anyway.

Frankly I think she was kind of racist. She didn’t have any black friends and her great-grandfather was an actual SS officer back in the day.

As with many things, she was far ahead of her time. She was into the IRL “50 Shades of Gray” thing long before the book or the movie came out. And it wasn’t until recently that single payer period care became a serious political issue.

“Free [sic] Tampons Should Be a Human Right”


One thing I’ll give her though: as a bona fide fashionista, always dressed to kill in dominatrix boots and crypto-fetish gear (the kind that you have to be “in the know” to get the subtle references – she could attend a Democratic party fundraiser in a little black dress and still find a way to accessorize with something faintly bondagey) …

… she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a “pussy hat.” Like, ever.


The Slut Power 3

I’m home, I grab a beer out of the fridge and sort of pace back and forth in the kitchen, thinking about this whole thing. Am I committing any felonies or misdemeanors? Probably not. Am I putting myself in any sort of civil legal jeapordy? Likely no. Am I in any physical danger? I wouldn’t think so. These guys seemed like amateurs from the beginning. Then again, amateurs might be more dangerous than professionals. I had a feeling this guy was a hot head. And he liked to talk. Surely that’s not a good thing.


It started innocently enough. I saw an ad online: “Computer Genius Needed.” Some guy wanted a website made, and considering the ad got all the jargon wrong, it was obvious they didn’t know the first thing about these new fangled internets. These types were sometimes good for a couple of thousand or so. I’d kick some down to my friend that was an actual computer genius if I needed help. So I email the guy, he sends me a number and I call him. He runs a modeling agency, wants a website. Lots of pictures of models, and a way for the girls to apply. “Models Wanted. 18-28. Good pay, please include one picture of face and one full length picture of body.” “I am this tall. My hair color is this. I weight this. This is my phone number.” Pretty straight forward, should be easy. Easy money, never turn it down.

So after I meet the guy, it’s clear what I’m dealing with. I don’t know why the first time we met he tells me he got out of prison not long ago, but whatever. He had money, and he bought me a nice cigar and a glass of wine, so I listen to him ramble. I tell him, sure I can do the job, it will cost something up front, and something on a regular basis. He finds this reasonable. We throw around some numbers, and I can barely contain myself at finding this particular inefficiency in the market. So we shake hands, plan to meet again in a week and finalize the deal. I made some noise about signing a contract, a non-disclosure, but he didn’t seem to understand or care. He said he’d pay in cash. I’m thinking, “jackpot!”

So I put up the website and the girls start applying. It was an enlightening experience. It got to the point where I couldn’t wait to check the applications the next day. Were there really this many girls desperate to be models? Every day, I’m sorting through these applications, and looking through the pictures these girls submitted. Girls from all over the place, all over America. Plenty of diversity, plenty of women with foreign names, too. Girls as young as 18, with pictures that may as well have been their yearbook pictures, to rough looking 40 year olds dressed like prostitutes. Even though we had a disclaimer, “do not sent nude pictures” we still got plenty. The girls were supposed to write something about themselves, and it ranged from an obvious “byline” from professional, attractive models, to unintentional comedy from various silly girls.


The guys who were paying me had no clue about any of this, except for what I told them and showed them. This sort of online thing was still pretty new. It was fast becoming popular but there were no rules. And, it illustrated clearly the old PT Barnum saying, “there’s a sucker born every minute.” Most average, normal, everyday people – especially the young – were just like, “ok, put this in the computer and push the button. Upload a picture. Look, this modeling agency has a professional looking website and they pay really well! I’ll apply. Here’s my number.”

So, I’m sort of the middle man. These guys are creating an illusion for these girls, that they can be New York models, go to fancy parties, and be admired for their looks. And I’m creating an illusion for these guys, that this internet stuff is really hard, and really expensive, and if they want these model applications to keep coming in, they are going to have to keep paying me. I took to writing the copy myself. I just wrote out a fantasy about models, actresses, MTV extras, glitzy New York nightlife, and fancy parties.

Hell, it’s basically a dating site.

The applications just kept rolling in.