What to Wear to the Revolution Part 2

"Obviously, Glynda dresses!" my best trannie friend would say. "Can't you see them, paratrooping down with machine guns in a purple dawn?" Ok, I'm paraphrasing here, but that is a beautiful image, isn't it?

After another "Dawn of the Oxford Shirt and Denim Clad Dead" I have come to the conclusion, not that the revolution is dead--and I'm not just talking about hippies and punks here, I am talking about the real indescribable, unnamed freaks who are born that way--but that anything new or different or interesting is such a high commodity these days that it is quickly repackaged and resold to the general populace before it can become part of a given subculture.

As I find all this draining, I remember one of my biggest heroes in freakdom (and for me, there are really no other kind) is Bill Gaines, and he did not start out looking the part of an artsy freak. Well, maybe he did, by wearing his tie loose, but he didn't have to have purple hair or tattoos to work on Tales of the Crypt or Mad Magazine. (I had a big pre-teen crush on him!)