Stranger Ranger

Once, I attended a small music showcase in an art gallery, not knowing what to expect since I was there to watch a friend’s performance. There were other artists who were participating, none of whom I remembered save for one. She played nothing but a recording of a tape which had been placed under a bridge. Seriously, no music accompaniment, no commentary, zilch. Just sounds of car engines, shaking concretes and loose pebbles. I didn’t know what the point of it is, and I bet lots of people left the room thinking what the fck they had just listened to.

Weirdly my approach to dressing has taken a similar turn. If I am heading to town or some place fancy, I’d pull out some outrageous Ricks or Margielas because I revel in the discomfort of unsuspecting strangers. Well now you’re probably thinking that I’m dressing up for other people. That would be accurate if I’m showing lots of skin or be as conventionally attractive as I can. In fact more often than not I bare very little skin which I blame on the way I’ve been raised. However, to say that I want to make an impression, that would be quite correct, though it does not necessarily have to be the good kind. Hell the world can be too mundane if we don’t shake it up once in a while.

Mind you this should not be mistaken as me buying clothes just for its shock factor. They have to speak to me first and be an extension of my personality and all that. But the icing on top would be overhearing someone say ‘that btch be cray’.