Skeletons In The Closet
or
The Fashion That Dare Not Speak Its Name
I don't care who you are. If you're "goth," you're guilty. You've done it. I've done it. We've all done it.
Not only do you own that ridiculous pair of rubber bat wings (an impulse buy, I'm sure) but you decided to wear them out to the club. And aren't your friends impressed! But for all their ooohing and aaahing, you can't forget your dirty, dirty little secret. Those aren't just any old pair of rubber bat wings. They're brand name rubber bat wings. They're a floppy, angst-ridden testiment to consumerism! You bought them AT HOT TOPIC!
*gasp!*
Every time one of your friends detachedly compliments your choice of accessory, you can't help but wonder: do they know you're a corporate whore? Can they tell that your bat wings came from the same "bootique" as their kid sister's neko-chan cat ears and black lipstick? Would they imagine that you hogged the dressing room for over an hour, vascilating between the wings and a pair of stick-on vampyre teeth (both 19.95 plus tax)? No, no, certainly not. You cut out the tag, removed all the stickers, burned the receipt. No one will ever know!
Suddenly you spy the makeup-happy gamine you've had your eye on for months. What's her name again? Scapula? Despondance? "Nice wings," she says. "Where'd you get them?"
Nevermind her name, you'd better think quick! If she finds out you shop at Hot Topic, that's it. It's all over. She'll know you aren't a true goth, and then you'll NEVER knock platform vinyl boots with her - not in a million years. Should you lie and tell them you made them? Yes, yes, that's it. You made them. Made them out of sorrow and nightmares. And death.
She calls your bluff. She wants you to make her a pair too. Sweet Osirus, now you're in a panic, aren't you? Well, it's your fault for wearing the damned things. You'd better just 'fess up. Don't worry. No one can see you blush under all that foundation.
"I, uh, . . . well, you see, I actually . . ." you stammer, dropping into a whisper, "I got them at Hot Topic."
"What?"
"I got them at Hot Topic," you say at normal volume, only this time, through your teeth.
"WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE MUSIC."
"I GOT THEM AT HOT TOPIC! But I didn't really want to. I mean, I don't shop there. My stupid mom gave me this gift certificate, cause she thinks I actually like that crap. I mean, seriously, she doesn't understand . . . "
But it's too late. She's already walking away.
Go. Go home and fantasize about hanging yourself with your misguided, commercialized fashion sense. You uncultured clod.
*applies black eye liner*
WHAT?
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