THE FLORAL SHIRT : A VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY
Have you ever made a purchase that you maybe should not have made? And to make matters worse you are reminded rather quickly of this mistake? I’ve made this mistake a million times in my twenty-eight years of living, but I’ll never forget the purchase of a particular floral shirt. During this time period I spent much of my free time practicing on writing. My biggest personal accomplishment at the time was I once wrote a full-length rough draft of a film that I once wanted to do. It took me a few weeks and when I was done I must’ve told everyone that I knew at the time, that’s just how proud I was. In my mind I was going to get this movie made, but I actually had no idea on how to get that done. I remember being in Lennox Mall and seeing a that I really wanted. At this time I was not into fashion but even a blind man could see that I just had to have this shirt. It was $80 ,by far out of my shirt budget at the time, but I had just written a ninety-four page screenplay and the high of the accomplishment helped guide my decision.
“I read somewhere that you have to make rewards”, I told myself. I purchased the shirt and saved it for the following week when I planned to go out. My good friend Jalyn was coming into town and we usually find a club or a nightlife spot to hangout. This particular night we went to a club called “Suite”. About thirty minutes into the club experience Jalyn turned to me and chuckled.
“What”, I screamed to try to be heard over the club’s music. He laughed again before pointing to the middle of the dance floor. There was a man, about my height but a lot heavier and a lot more intoxicated dancing like he was auditioning for a music video. He was wearing the exact same shirt as me. Jalyn continued to laugh because I had bragged earlier in the night that my shirt was cooler than his.
“That shirt is so cool”, he joked. To Jalyn it was just a joke but to me it was more than that. This actually wasn’t the first time this happened. Even as a guy that didn’t hang his hat on fashion it really bothered me to see someone else wearing another signature article of clothing of mines. The other club goers watched the guy dance as the pointed and laughed. I went to grab a drink and waited in the long line. By the time I got to the front I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the guy from the dance floor!
“Nice shirt their man”, he said as he slapped my shoulder like some type of bro. He kept rambling about the shirt even as I ordered my drink. The bartender even made a comment that we were “twins”, or something like that. I wish I could burn the shirt right then and there. When I finally got my drink he gave me another one of those shoulder taps, spilling my tequila and cranberry all over the center of my shirt. I wanted to slap the hell out that man, but I had already saw how he was moving on the dance floor and figured he’d probably “outmode” me in a scuffle.
Later that night when I arrived home I must’ve ranted about that shit in the mirror for an hour as I tipsy version of myself stood there in a stained shirt. “Big dancing bitch”, I shouted one loud time at the end of one rant. When I finally settled down I had what I thought was a solution to all my problems. Why don’t I just make my own clothes? The question was a naive one, I admit, but it placed a thought in me. And though it would be years before I ever took this question serious, I’ll never forget when I asked myself that question.