As a silver-scalped, midlife-crisis-courting rock geek, I was heartened when my 16-yr-old son expressed interest in appropriating some of my embarrassingly sprawling collection of "vintage" band t-shirts, none of which were "vintage" when I first bought them back when the earth was young.
Being that some of the older ones now fit me like the skin of an unsavory sausage, I said "sure," happy to see them get a second life, if you will, on his comparatively wiry, youthful frame. No poser, he, Oliver is invested in the music as well as the iconography, able to rattle off song titles and minutia for any pedantic gatekeeper (like his ol' man) who might suddenly ambush him. All good.
The issue, however, was when he asked if he might 'lend' a certain ancient Bauhaus shirt of mine (first prized off the walls of Bleecker Bob's circa 1984) to the young lady he may (or may not) be actively dating (it's hard to know for sure), to which I let loose with an emphatic "NOOOOOPE!!!"
I think the biggest incongruous takeaway, for me, was that these shirts, back in my high school days (the very same high school, incidentally), if anything, unwittingly acted as REPELLANT, but those were different times, clearly.
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