Fashions come and go

Bill Ward

I was watching some television the other evening and there it was, something that was so popular yet so crazy, a Zoot suit. For all you youngsters who have never heard about a Zoot suit, you don’t know what you are missing.

Basically, it was the fad around the late ‘30s and 1940s. Remember the Nehru coat fad? Well, this was much like that only earlier.

A Zoot suit was just that, a suit — a very comfortable suit. It was a suit with wide lapels, very wide lapels. It also had a long coat that went down below your knees. The trouser and vest were very full and the pockets on the side large and with flaps over the top.

The trousers had cuffs and one major accessory was a long chain going from the vest down to the ankles and back up to the side pocket on the jacket. A hat was mandatory as was a pack of cigarettes and a Zippo lighter in the pocket.

It was something, to me at the time, that I would care to have worn but my older brother Gene thought it was the cat’s meow. Gene was 13 years older than I was and much better looking, much more talented, and much more attuned to the present fads. The latter was something that basically drove my parents crazy. Gene loved cars; red convertibles were his desire at this time. Good thing dad was a car dealer.

Gene was a cool, calm and very collected individual and in my young mind those who wore the Zoot suit tended to be, shall we say, a tad on the crazy side. I guess that the full tailoring of the suit made for easy Jitter Bugging and other dancing events. It was, to me, about three sizes bigger than it needed to be and way too fancy to be useful. But as is usually the situation, the teenagers thought it was really cool and everyone should have one of them. Not according to me or my parents, but then again what did we know? Mom and Dad were too old to really understand and younger brother didn’t count.

I would guess that when I managed to make it to the teenager category I too had some rather idiotic and really stupid fads that I felt I just had to wear or have. And I suspect that my parents had the same attitude toward me as they did Gene. And that attitude was “this too will pass, thankfully.” It just seems that those teenager years no matter what decade they fall in have expensive and usually needless desires to be “cool,” accepted and one of the guys or gals. And usually Mom and Dad end up paying the price so their little ones will not be unduly harmed psychologically by not being with the “in” crowd.

Nehru jackets, wildly colored tennis shoes, long skirts, short skirts, tie dye shirts, all fall into the fad category in my mind. And at one time or anther I had to have at least one of them to avoid being an outsider.

I really think that at times the apparel people do this to us just to pick up business. And I would guess that there are many more things that did not make the grade as fads; for that we should all be thankful.

After I lost my wife and I started to clean things out I found so many things in her and my closet that would probably fall into the category of fads or fashion I guess for those of us over the age of 30. In my case I found things I had not worn for years, and couldn’t now if I wanted to. And a lot of the stuff I really wouldn’t want to wear or even admit to having. It is really rather interesting the pains one goes to to fit into life as they see it. It seems that every few months a new something shows up that everyone just must have. At least, that seems to be the attitude of the stores selling those items.

Zoot suits, Nehru jackets, tie dye shirts, Argyle socks and shorts all have come and gone. Society has survived and thrived with and without them. But at the time, boy did we ever need them. Fashion changes but in the same vein also tends to regress at times. Ties were at one time a necessity. Men would wear ties digging ditches, washing cars and doing dirty work. But they had ties and hats and that was the fashion of the day. That was one fashion I really would not miss.

Fashion comes and fashion goes but life goes on. And we get older and more crotchety as we age and really could care less about what the “in” crowd thinks is fashionable.

By golly, I guess I am getting older.



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