Quick Guide: Trev’s Quest for the Maddest Threadz
If my snappy title didn’t clue you up, this article is about fashion. Actually if my snappy title didn’t clue you up, you are very, very stupid. Let’s just look at that word for a second: fashion. Fash-ion. F-ash-i-on. Fashio-n. Break the word up however you like, you can’t escape the simple truth that I am padding this introduction out for no good reason. Nevertheless fashion is a strange and fickle beast, given to feats of whimsy and contradicting itself. The gods of fashion dictate to us what is ‘cool’ and what is ‘in’ and we can either fall in line with the mainstream or rebel and be individual. At least until everyone else is being individual, making individuality the mainstream. Then you have to be individual in another way. And so fashion lumbers on, devouring people.
This is nothing new and I’m sure you’ve heard all of that before. I’m also equally sure that as a suave and sophisticated Internet geek about town you have your own very fixed ideas about fashion. That all of your ideas come from watching hentai alone in your parents’ bedroom in no way diminishes this. As a result you refuse to be dictated to by head fashion designer (a.k.a. The Great Satan) and all his (or her?) little minions. These fashion people seem to be getting more and more ridiculous ideas about clothing as they become steadily more and more detached from reality. Any reality. At the same time, there’s been a surge in nostalgia television and cinema. Coincidence? I think not.
This graph backs up my theory. The pink spots are fashionable. Pressing 'P' will not print it.
Fashion’s era of innovation has been and gone. The past is where the good clothes are, but it doesn’t have to be where they remain! People want to be reminded of the hip fashions from the past, so let’s go find the hippest and bring it kicking and screaming into the new millennium! Whoo! No… I’m not talking about the 80s… or even the 70s. Take a trip with me, if you will, a trip I will call Trev’s Quest for the Maddest Threadz. First stop in my quest is:
TUDOR ENGLAND
Yes kids, it's Henry VIII: This Time It's Personal! That was a Roman numeral joke. There won't be anymore. Ever.
This studly monarch is none other than King Henry “The Eighth” VIII. The one thing he sure ain’t is fashionable. If this guy were to be in a show, he’d get laughed off the catwalk. Of course, then he’d behead everyone who dissed him. And everyone else for good measure. That’s the kind of guy he was: classy. Still, that is now. Back in the day (1509-1547) he was quite the stud muffin. 6 wives, countless mistresses, 33 children (mostly illegitimate) – you can’t argue with that kind of success. Well you can, but you’d have to be off your head to do so. Ignoring my weak puns, let’s check out his threadz to see if they qualify as maddest.
You aren’t imagining things – he is wearing tights. Just check out those shapely calves. Takes a lot of confidence to wear tights. The kind of confidence you can really only get by having the power of life and death over everyone around you. Noah collected two of every animal for his famous Ark. But what happened to all those animals? Mystery solved – they ended up in Henry’s coat. A finely tailored museum of death, this kind of thing is a devil to keep clean. He’s got the bling-bling chain going on, but it just doesn’t seem to fit with his (I apologise in advance for these words) ghastly doublet. The hat is on at a sufficiently rakish angle to please, and on the whole I’d say his threadz are pretty mad.
FINAL MAD THREAD SCORE – 7/10
Not the Maddest Threadz, but well on the way. And so am I. On my way to:
VICTORIAN ENGLAND
Tally ho.
This is quite clearly a Victorian gentleman on his way back from an evening of raucous enjoyment, possibly involving gambling and/or tea. Note the disproportionately tiny feet – a sure sign of wealth, as it is a little known fact that the Victorian nobility were stalwart practitioners of the ancient Chinese art of foot-binding. Now this gentleman, henceforth referred to as Sir Herbert Crapwrangler, has some pretty neat garments. That long coat, like Henry’s, is made from the skins of many, many dead animals, but don’t worry kids – most of them were already dead before they were flayed.
Also note the massive cuffs – a more practical forerunner to the wrist bands popular in the 80s? Perhaps Sir Herbert Crapwrangler did a lot of jogging. He is accessorising to the max with that riding crop/discipline stick and if I saw him walking down the street towards me my response would almost certainly be “Holy Shit, that guy’s threadz sure are MAD!!!”, which is part of the reason why I’m not allowed on the street anymore. Those trousers seem pretty swish though, a nice check pattern and a good cut to them. Still, I don’t get struck with quite enough overall razzmatazz to call those threadz MADDEST. Despite the hat. And the beard. And my pathetic need to type ‘razzmatazz.’
FINAL MAD THREAD SCORE – 8/10
We’re getting closer… Let’s leap forward again to:
1940s AMERICA
Zoot. Suit.
This man has quite the pose. He is carrying himself with even more confidence than good old Henry, and he isn’t even a king. He knows he looks damn fine and he knows everyone else knows it as well. If this guy clicked his fingers at you a group of four large men in finely-tailored Italian suits would fan out from behind him and beat you up. Plus he seems to be at some kind of villa, no doubt with a tropical climate, but is he wearing shorts and a T-shirt? No sir!
He’s got a long coat, but not a dead animal in sight. Except for the metaphorical dead animal of crap clothes, who for some reason I imagine as a stoat. A stoat that has been run over by a car. Repeatedly. Those shoes give him two ways of locomotion – he can either:
a) Strut, or
b) Glide
Oh I’m not going to pick apart his clothes. He is the pinnacle of fashion, from the top of his hat to the bottom of his swinging chain. He is Zoot Suited. Fashion has reached its peak. It was only downhill from here.
FINAL MAD THREAD SCORE – 10/10
Trev’s Quest for the Maddest Threadz has come to an end. With sexy results.
I hope you’ve enjoyed my slightly sexist and extremely skewed view of fashion. If you want to buy your own Zoot Suit after reading this (and if you don’t, tell me so I can kick your ass), you can visit el pachucho. You’ll need a few hundred dollars to spare though. So remember this article next time you see some idiot wearing recycled tin cans and declaring them to be the Next Big Thing. Just turn to this idiot, look him square in the eye with a steely gaze and as you kick him in the crotch shout out proud “ZOOT SUITS ARE IN!”
This... this one will be mine.
