Quote:
Originally posted by bold_n_brazen
I have a pair of madras patchwork mens pants from like 1974 that I bought at a thrift store in college. I wear them over my bikini at the beach club when I go have lunch. I have no doubt that they are totally rediculous.
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Okay, I can understand y'all hating on the tartans, but don't be a madras-hata. I used to wear a button-down madras shortsleeve over my Vuarnet logo t-shirt with my cool Tom Cruise Ray-Bans and my black checkered Vans. My hair was well-moussed, and I stayed in my room masturbating furiously to magazine pics of Belinda Carlisle (solo, not-a-fat period). Good times, good times.
A further, better defense of madras: The full-on DORKIEST prof at my college (at least, in Arts & Sciences; can't speak for Engineering or LS) was a sweet nerdy little guy --- he wrote mystery novels in which the protagonist used elementary principles of his field to solve murders, for chrissake --- who had a heart of gold. But he also had two redeeming qualities. One, he was an avowed Christian teetotaler who nevertheless made a rather public exception for Pilsner Urquell, because it was so damn good. That's gangsta. Two, he had this kick-ass Gainsborough chair in his living room (on-campus historic house, living rooms visible to all and occasionally open for tours; federal period furniture required) that he had reupholstered in madras. It was way fucking cool --- a tiny glimpse of rebellion in an otherwise straight arrow type. I aspire to that. Sebby can have the "I'm an iconoclast all the time" schtick. Me, I'm more about piously painting the icons, but burying a little flash of nip in the portrait for the careful observer to find. Madras is right up that alley.
