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A dad’s war with Gen Z fashion
My daughter has been wearing crocs with socks.
What you need to know:
- When Cecil comes on holiday, he keeps his hair long or shaves it in a fancy style.
- My daughter has been wearing Crocs with socks.
For the longest time - okay, too long for my old-school bones - my daughter has been wearing Crocs with socks. She swears that this is the in thing and she doesn't want to be seen dead without this monstrosity of a fashion.
Me? I can't wear such items. Not even over my dead body. If my daughter decided to get back at me, and she decked me in Crocs and socks as my burial attire, I'd rise and cause a scene. I'd throw those damn Crocs at the speed of light, the way our mothers used to fling slippers half across the world, and make mourners pay hell for trying to shame me on my final day.
From where I'm coming from, and old dads will agree with me, back in the day, the only people who were allowed to wear open shoes and socks were old folks. Open shoes and socks were fashion blunders, which would make your mates ridicule you till you updated your flares game.
More fads change …
Speaking of flare pants - or, as we used to call them, bell bottoms - my daughter and nephew are rocking them round the clock. Plus, they have the Gen Z nerve to tell me how they are fashion-forward and I should get with the flares program.
My daughter has been wearing crocs with socks.
“What are you talking about?” I keep challenging them, “those flares aren't a new fad. I wore them to death in the 70s and 80s.”
“Can you still wear flares?” they ask.
“I said I wore them to death. Which means I don't fancy wearing them.”
“But they're the in thing,” they try convincing me.
“Kids, just because a fad is in doesn't mean you should join the bandwagon. Try and have some individual taste.”
I get where my kids are coming from. They're bombarded on social media by new fads, and they don't want to be left out.
I'll let them wear their flares as I keep to my comfy pants.
Boys will be boys
My nephew, Cecil's high school has one rule on hair; none. Like a student should report to school clean shaven.
When Cecil comes on holiday, he keeps his hair long or shaves it in a fancy style. Sometimes he dyes his hair.
This is just me, and I might be missing something, but I don't see where a hairstyle and discipline come together.
“What if,” I always wonder, “instead of being punitive, the school had a barbershop where students were taught this craft by hair experts? What if they were allowed to express their uniqueness and individuality on their hair?”
Back in high school, we were allowed to have afros. We even had fellow students, who'd shave our hair using razors held in combs. This never impacted negatively on our discipline.
Immediately we cleared high school, I put dreads. But I always wore a beanie so my dad wouldn't know what I was up to.
My dad, a church elder, who was lovingly called Japuonj - meaning teacher - banned his kids from eating while wearing hats. Man, back then, having dreads was akin to having the real mwakenya.
Times have changed. I don't mind if Cecil wants to have dreads or wear his baseball cap when we're eating.
Here's where I draw the line; sagging.
My nephew, who, like almost all boys is age, is an aspiring rapper, has developed that hip hop habit of sagging his pants. He thinks it's cool. I think it's unsightly.
Back in our days, our underpants were exactly that; garments that we wore under and were never to be seen in public.
Fashion or no fashion, sagging is the mwakenya in my house.
