i'm thinking about the large yellow sleeveless jersey dress i used to wear with a large black leather belt (had a pocket) and black cut-up longsleeve unitard with short black boots. dancers are notorious for making up all kinds of crazy-ass fashion statements. modern dancers moreso than ballerinas... we wear our tights over our leotards not under..we put holes in tights with feet, we need a good grip to work on our feet callous'.
my favorite 80's fashion statements:
-early 80's i used to wear my older brother's 60's style ties to high school. they were thin, black, and very cool. i also confiscated their 60's style tacky cool long sleeve shirts...
-a real navy pea coat. heavy as hell!
-my freakin' bolero jacket and hat! $35 dollar used jacket from canal jean co. the bolero hat i begged to get for christmas.
-my black leather boots with chains around the ankles.
-my red and black tie dye leggings bought at canal jean co. that i used to wear with my bleached and holey bowie tee, short black miniskirt and red lipstick.
don't remember what i wore on my feet...but i did steal my sister's wrestling type leather shoes (made by zodiac). and to think payless is hawking bad copies of this style..makes me shudder.
-an irishman's levi jacket he gave to me to paint on the back... it's still in my closet. painted alladin sane album cover on it. most recent wearing was for the bowie 50th birthday bash at the garden, i scoped some guy with a video camera pointed at me...
holy shit. i guess i did wear alot of black back then...
too freakin' funny.
of course my attitude was pretty black back then. riding the subway (late 80's) everyday seeing the poor and homeless eventually gets to you. getting groped in a packed car or having guys say extremely nasty things they wanted to do to you...well, i actually clocked someone over the head with my dance bag (freakin' huge grey leather bag filled with clothes and books). i think back on that and it was a really dumb thing to do... there were at least 5 guys, all laughing. they caught me on a bad day. when one of them grabbed my ass, i clocked the nearest guy. of course it happended in a very public place, the port authority on 41st street in that long urine smelling tunnel that takes you from the 7 to the buses.
it was a Cure, Pixies, and Bowie Low period. saw lots of art and dance, had many drinks and smoked a few bones. packed my shit one day and moved up north...100's of miles away from nyc and met a crazy dutch man.