Transformation Through Conformity
I'm for: British Indie Rock, Salt of the Earth Americans, and Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.
I'm against: Lil' Wayne's 8 grammy nominations, rich Houstonians, and Fireman 4 Ale.
__________
I am standing in a production van in a mall parking lot in Kansas City, Missouri. A beautiful woman stands before me presenting herself for my approval.
“That looks nice. Now let’s try the jean skirt with the pink top.” I speak thoughtfully as if I am painting a picture in my mind. I excuse myself from the RV and make my way to the wardrobe rack again.
How the hell did I get here?
Just 12 years ago I was standing in the halls of Cresthill Middle School during a passing period and Cari mumbled, “At least you match” in my general direction.
Cari had been an object of fascination for me for about two weeks then, but she had never actually talked to me before. My fascination with Cari wasn’t really sexual at that point. Honestly, I was just mystified by the girl. She had this incredible presence that took over every classroom she entered. But unlike most of the other popular girls she wasn’t unbelievably hot. At the time she was cute and peppy, but she wasn’t the starlet of the Cresthill middle school boys dreams, Megan and Tamara cast those roles. Nonetheless, Cari’s confidence elevated her beyond the rest, and teachers and students respected her without the resentment typical of middle school.
So when Cari uttered that backhanded compliment I jumped on the opportunity to probe her sage advice.
“What do you mean at least I match?” I asked inquisitively.
“Well you wear the soccer swish swoop pants and t-shirts all the time, but you have the sense to coordinate the colors unlike some of the other dorks, you know like Doug.” (Doug used to wear soccer jerseys all the time including this England shirt that was impossible to match with anything, Doug and I weren’t really friends but I knew about his horrible style and being placed in the same group was horrifying for my fragile middle school ego).
Cari and I continued our conversation about my lack of fashion sense for the remainder of the passing period. The discussions continued periodically as my wardrobe transformed from 100% soccer friendly gear to an awkward smorgasbord of discount rack designer shirts that were out of season, ill fitting, and gaudy as hell. She taught me about brands and what it meant when you wore them. During the process, I fell hard for Cari and soon after I confessed my feelings (over Instant Messenger of course) I discovered the meaning of “Friend Zone.” At the time I didn’t fully comprehend it, and instead of moving on quickly like other 13 year olds, I dropped into a period of melancholy and self-loathing that had my parents worried. I leveraged their fear for my well being, to get new clothes to impress Cari and other girls.
Totally disgusting, right? On top of all the other awkward shit you go through in middle school and high school we have materialism as a fodder for peer pressure and bullying.
That moment when Cari mumbled those words was the inflection point for my life. Up to that point I was pretty much oblivious about what other people thought of me. I wore sweatpants and short ass soccer shorts every day through elementary school. I was a soccer player and that’s what I wanted people to know about me, I didn’t think that clothing and material possessions could affect people’s perceptions and attitudes.
Now it is my profession to define those perceptions and attitudes. And As much as I am disgusted by it, I am totally fascinated by the reasons we choose to conform.
If Cari hadn’t happened to me something else probably would have. At that time I was dead set on a course to be a scientist or an engineer. She transformed me, because she taught me how to conform.
Cari and I haven’t talked in about 3 years. Ironically, last time I spoke to her she was a full bore Berkeley based hippie that had rejected all materialism and neo-Christian morality. Oh the mysterious ways of the world.
I return to the R.V. and the beautiful model.
“That skirt looks great on you, I think we will go with that and the first white top. The photographer will be ready to shoot in about 5 minutes.”
From unable to dress myself, to deciding the wardrobe of models at photo shoots. Yeah, it is a crazy world.
I'm against: Lil' Wayne's 8 grammy nominations, rich Houstonians, and Fireman 4 Ale.
__________
I am standing in a production van in a mall parking lot in Kansas City, Missouri. A beautiful woman stands before me presenting herself for my approval.
“That looks nice. Now let’s try the jean skirt with the pink top.” I speak thoughtfully as if I am painting a picture in my mind. I excuse myself from the RV and make my way to the wardrobe rack again.
How the hell did I get here?
Just 12 years ago I was standing in the halls of Cresthill Middle School during a passing period and Cari mumbled, “At least you match” in my general direction.
Cari had been an object of fascination for me for about two weeks then, but she had never actually talked to me before. My fascination with Cari wasn’t really sexual at that point. Honestly, I was just mystified by the girl. She had this incredible presence that took over every classroom she entered. But unlike most of the other popular girls she wasn’t unbelievably hot. At the time she was cute and peppy, but she wasn’t the starlet of the Cresthill middle school boys dreams, Megan and Tamara cast those roles. Nonetheless, Cari’s confidence elevated her beyond the rest, and teachers and students respected her without the resentment typical of middle school.
So when Cari uttered that backhanded compliment I jumped on the opportunity to probe her sage advice.
“What do you mean at least I match?” I asked inquisitively.
“Well you wear the soccer swish swoop pants and t-shirts all the time, but you have the sense to coordinate the colors unlike some of the other dorks, you know like Doug.” (Doug used to wear soccer jerseys all the time including this England shirt that was impossible to match with anything, Doug and I weren’t really friends but I knew about his horrible style and being placed in the same group was horrifying for my fragile middle school ego).
Cari and I continued our conversation about my lack of fashion sense for the remainder of the passing period. The discussions continued periodically as my wardrobe transformed from 100% soccer friendly gear to an awkward smorgasbord of discount rack designer shirts that were out of season, ill fitting, and gaudy as hell. She taught me about brands and what it meant when you wore them. During the process, I fell hard for Cari and soon after I confessed my feelings (over Instant Messenger of course) I discovered the meaning of “Friend Zone.” At the time I didn’t fully comprehend it, and instead of moving on quickly like other 13 year olds, I dropped into a period of melancholy and self-loathing that had my parents worried. I leveraged their fear for my well being, to get new clothes to impress Cari and other girls.
Totally disgusting, right? On top of all the other awkward shit you go through in middle school and high school we have materialism as a fodder for peer pressure and bullying.
That moment when Cari mumbled those words was the inflection point for my life. Up to that point I was pretty much oblivious about what other people thought of me. I wore sweatpants and short ass soccer shorts every day through elementary school. I was a soccer player and that’s what I wanted people to know about me, I didn’t think that clothing and material possessions could affect people’s perceptions and attitudes.
Now it is my profession to define those perceptions and attitudes. And As much as I am disgusted by it, I am totally fascinated by the reasons we choose to conform.
If Cari hadn’t happened to me something else probably would have. At that time I was dead set on a course to be a scientist or an engineer. She transformed me, because she taught me how to conform.
Cari and I haven’t talked in about 3 years. Ironically, last time I spoke to her she was a full bore Berkeley based hippie that had rejected all materialism and neo-Christian morality. Oh the mysterious ways of the world.
I return to the R.V. and the beautiful model.
“That skirt looks great on you, I think we will go with that and the first white top. The photographer will be ready to shoot in about 5 minutes.”
From unable to dress myself, to deciding the wardrobe of models at photo shoots. Yeah, it is a crazy world.
Labels: Conformity, Materialism, Middle School, Transformation
posted by IrishZag at 7:09 PM
2 Comments:
Inspired as always, Brian. I think it is incredible that you have "life changing" experiences and that you can identify and describe them so vividly, very introspective. Keep up the good work my friend, and I will keep reading.
ok, first of all brian writes fabrications. there's no way that little pea brain can remember all that. secondly, what were you doing in kansas city and you didn't tell me???? what shoot was this for? barbecue?
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