Garment Memoir

Kendal Gast

ENGL 305

1-28-16

Fridays

I was in high school.  And I hate this font.  It reminds of poor beginnings and frayed ends.  Ends that were somehow conjured from nothing; from my very own core.  My very own ethos.  Word is telling me that the previous two sentences are ungrammatical.  Word can go to hell.  Just like all those other fools that I called my classmates or worse even, my peers.  Those dribbling trolls didn’t know anything outside 500 peopled small towns nor could they look past the end of their very own nose.  And I didn’t care.  They made fun of me. 

Rarely did I ever hear about it, though.  Not a single person confronted me with whatever insult was currently circulating.  Rather, I would always hear it from a second or third degree person, one whom I did not seek out consciously to share experiences or time with.  It was someone who didn’t necessarily make fun of me behind my back, but also didn’t necessarily defend me.  And when they did tell me, according to them and the circle they hung around (it happened to be all dudes), that on a daily basis he heard my name and the term ‘gay’ brought up, I wasn’t surprised. 

It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before.  I didn’t care because I had more confidence in myself and knew it wasn’t true.  And part of the reason why I had more confidence in myself was because I always wore clothes that I wanted to wear, and that I knew looked good together and fit me well - because I despised ill-fitting t-shirt sleeves that would stick out, inches, from the mid-arm instead of hugging the tubular shape like a soft cotton hug.  Because I hated how certain shirts, around the waist, would not sit close and instead flop around the back as the wearer moved. 

So on every Friday throughout my sophomore year, I always wore a deep crimson Hollister t-shirt.  It hugged my little stick arms and would never betray my waistline by flowing behind me.  This red shirt had stitched-on forest green letters spelling out Hollister, and below that, Surf Team.  I paired this t-shirt to end all t-shirts with my best fitting Buckle jeans.  The perfectly balanced blue, not too indigo and not too washed out, complemented the upper red.  Blue and red, such a natural couple.  It’s on our flag, for god’s sake and the main colors of Captain America.  What am I saying?  Everyone likes Iron Man better.  But what really brought this ensemble together was my navy-colored pair of low top Converse.  Yes, there was more blue under the jeans but I didn’t care.  The shoes were the perfect balance of class and casualness. 

And I really did wear this every Friday.  For several months.  I mean, what else would you wear on the best day of the week?  Sweatpants?  Hell no.  The only people that ever mentioned anything were my family.  My sister would say, “What are you wearing?  Put sweatpants on instead that same thing.”  Nah, I’m good, I’d say.  I like this outfit.