I went to the mall a few days ago to pick up my prescription glasses and hit a few stops before heading back home.  The mall seemed like a good retreat and the perfect place to pass a free weekend.  What was I thinking? No sooner than had I set foot in the place were my eyes assailed by a confusing conformity of apparel. My eyes struggled to decipher the frantic combinations of letters and digits and symbols emblazoned on the chests, legs, and shoes of shoppers and pedestrians. Some of the brands I'd heard of, but others looked as if they belonged on some type of foreign manuscript. Heck, some of this jive was already in another lingo. The perpetrator? So-called "Urban Sportswear."

I'm not exactly sure what that means, but it might be a fancy term for "expensive street clothes." This latest scheme for wealth has targeted a diverse consumer demographic through obvious successful campaigns of propaganda.

Plus, the growing acceptance of hip-hop has left many people wanting to dress like their idols. I have a lurking suspicion that the general populace doesn't know or care, but my day at the mall left me thinking. Everyone was rocking some sort of urban fashion, from button-up and zip-up pants to camouflage vests and do-rags. I wasn't sure whether I had walked into a FUBU convention or a war zone. So my immediate response was, Gasp! Conformity strikes again!



This latest syndrome might be a product of pop culture madness and moneyed teenagers eager to look like their friends. You can imagine my astonishment when the Syndrome found its way into my household. Now, I come from a family well-steeped in the hand-me-down tradition. I'm not ashamed to admit that. My parents grew up with empty closets and only got new clothes every growth spurt or two. These clothes, of course, had already been, shall we say, "broken-in." And the shoe issue was a whole different ordeal. Raised in the aftermath of all this, I was surprised when my younger brother came home one day decked out in the latest hip-hop rags, looking ready to bust a freestyle or spin a routine on the turntables (that is, if he could). Ay, caramba. I'm beginning to wonder how much they're paying these days to be a walking spokesperson.

But what is fashion? To me, fashion is a dress rehearsal, with actors, costumes, and confusion; and with nobody quite sure just what they're supposed to be. Fashion is conformity.

I know it all boils down to individual tastes and personal preference, but isn't it strange that, given the freedom to wear anything in the world, we all choose to look alike? No worries, though. In the wake of all this chaos, it seems I've developed a ridiculous but utterly workable solution to this spreading epidemic. What we need folks, are static logo decals. Yes, you've read correctly. We need static logo decals to paste on plain clothing. That way I can wear more of my favorite brands without actually buying the clothes. You like my shirt? It's Nike. *schrip* Now it's Adidas, or both.

That's my suggestion. Maybe it'll catch on. In the meantime, all you slaves to fashion start saving up; it's about time to upgrade those chains.