Sunday Whatever – Style by Frederick K Foote

A Piece by Mr Foote that we weren’t sure where it fitted and so a Sunday Treat.

“Von, brother from another mother. You know what your problem is, man?”

“Of course, I do. I’m friends with you, Morris. That has held me back for the last 40 years. I hope you got a solution for my poor choice in friends.”

“Ha, ha, ha, very funny, Negro. Without me showing you the way by example and word, you would be a worthless turd.”

“Nigger, please, you been an anchor around my neck since the third grade, when I let you copy my math test answers. Is that how you schooled me?”

“Look, Von, man, I’m tryin’ to help you help yourself, man. And here you tryn’ to bring up ancient negative energy.”

“The truth is the light, Morris, and the truth will set you free. Amen!”

“Okay, brother. You leave me no choice, man. The truth is you lack style. Your dress game is lame. I know this hurts for you to hear this, but people be talking about your throw-away rags from a long time back.”

“Morris, thanks for keeping this crushing news from my tender ego for all these years. Morris, did you defend me from that malicious slander?”

“Man, you know I got your back always, brother always, but, Von, I can’t fight the tide forever. Look, your wardrobe desperately needs a refresh.”

“Still, I owe you for all those years of having my back.”

“Aww, man, I know you would do the same. Look, I’m gonna’ help you, brother. I’m gonna’ help you find your own self style. For free, man. This consultation is free.”

“Morris, are you offering me a free styling consult?”

“More than that. I’m gonna’ give you a free makeover. All on me, brother.”

“Wow! I’m in shock and awe, with you doing all this for me, for free.”

“Anything for you, brother. Now, give me an example of a style you admire. If you need inspiration, I got some magazines here to help you.”

“Okay, so, one of my favorite examples of style is when those two women were running a distance race, and they both fell during the race, and one got up and started to run, but turned back to help the other runner. Morris, I think that shows a lot of style and class, right?”

“Okay, Von, now you got to focus. We’re talking about clothes here, okay?”

“Morris, I think style is how you act as well as how you dress.”

“Yeah, sure, there’s more than one definition of style, but we’re talking about clothes now, okay?’

“Sure, you right. Alright, so when Fidel took over Cuba and visited the UN, he wore his army fatigues.  I thought he was making a statement that Cuba was at war and that every Cuban was a soldier. I thought that style statement was genius. And Zelensky did that early on in the Ukrainian war with Russia.”

“Von, all that’s true. I give you that, but we talkin’ about dressin’ you, a 65-year-old Black male livin’ in San Juan, California, today. We need a style for you, not world leaders. I mean, you wear cheap jeans, T-shirts, and hoodies, and off-brand shoes. And it’s not like you can’t afford some finer threads.”

“True that. What do you have in mind?”

“No, no, no. You have a style that is you. Now, I got us some copies of Esquire, GQ, Essence, Kolor, and Ape to Gentleman. Now you just chill and fold the corner of the pages that have fashions that appeal to you. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“I’ll get us another round from the bar.”

“Good, Von, I see you have folded a few pages, way to go. I be back in a few. I got to make a call or two.”

***

“Hey, Von, you haven’t finished the magazines. What’re you reading—the New York Times. Man, I thought—”

“Morris, were you talking to Meredith? I tried to call her, and her line was busy.”

“I was, aww, I did speak with her for a quick minute. But—”

“How much is she paying you to make me over, Morris?”

“Von, I would have done it for free, but your woman can be persistent—she insisted on paying. I mean, what could I do?”

“You could have told me the truth, Negro.”

“Yeah, but we can still get you into some style suitable for your age and interests, right?”

“Morris, you and Meredith are a wake-up call. I didn’t see the style desert I was in. I ain’t mad at you two. I’m texting Meredith to get on down here and give us a hand in this makeover.”

***

“Babe, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was paying Von to get you out of those damn hoodies and jeans. I love you, but I have been asking you for years to dress with a little more class, Von. When I met you, you looked so fine in your Air Force dress uniform, you stole my heart, babe.”

“Meredith, I was duty-bound to wear that uniform, but I have never been a uniform or suit kinda guy. But reading the men’s fashion magazines and the newspaper, I realized I had neglected my sartorial opportunities.”

“Von, this is off the hook, man. So, which styles impressed you the most in the magazines I showed you?”

“Well, to start with, I want a red hoodie with the Afro-American version of the US flag in black, green, and red on the front. And the gay flag on the back.”

“Baby, this is not what I had in mind. You’re still in a hoodie, with symbols that many people detest.”

“Okay, let’s make this a jacket. And on the right sleeve, I want to have ICE thugs beating on suspected immigrants, and on the other sleeve, I want a picture of US soldiers attacking Black people in Washington, DC. And I want the red circle with the slash traffic sign imposed over these pictures.”

“Von, Von, you gonna’ be a target for them crazies out there dressin’like that, Bro.”

“Morris, I will be advertising my beliefs and promoting my causes. I will be seen. This is my political style. I want to make my statements visible and clear.”

“Baby, this will not be productive, and it could be dangerous and divisive.”

“Meredith, living in these times is dangerous. And we have always been divided. I want t-shirts with portraits of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Atatiana Jefferson, Stephon Clark, Botham Jean, Philando Castile, Allon Starling, Eric Garner, and Freddie Gray. I want the real deal art on these pictures.”

“Okay, Von, but some of this stuff you want may not be on the market, you know?”

“Then we will put them on the market, Morris. And I need a blue cap with red letters that says, ‘Building a future based on freedom and justice for all.’”

“And I want a ‘Liberate Palestine’ workout suit in red, white, black, and green, with matching shoes.”

“Okay, okay, baby, you can keep wearing your hoodies and fake jeans. You win.”

“No, Meredith, we win. We win when we make style a liberation tool.”

“Babe, I’m not wearing those, those costumes you just described.”
“Not even a ‘Free Palestine’ button or a ‘Freedom and Justice’ cap or an Afro American flag scarf? Or an ‘Our bodies are not your property’ bracelet?”

“I don’t like to stand out like that. I give money to progressive organizations. This gear is provocative and may cause more harm than good, babe.”

“Meredith, you are right on, but it may bring cohesion and excitement, and more activism.

Look, how do we show other people where we stand on the issues? I think we use lawn signs, flags, tattoos, and our clothes. We must have the courage to go public with our politics.”

“I don’t want the attention, negative or positive, that comes from flaunting my politics. I need my safe personal space.”

“Okay, I respect that, but I have to move on to my political style.”

“I know. Just be careful, babe.”

“Von, you might be on to something here, blood. This political protest style might have market potential. I mean, we need to work on marketing and financing, and—”

“Okay, Morris, but the best marketing for us is wearing our goods, our goals, and our ideas.”

“On it, brother. I’m on Amazon right now.”

“Baby, I see you’re serious about this, and I’ll help, but I may never wear my politics on my sleeve.”

“Deal. Let’s seal it with a kiss.”

And they do.

Frederick K Foote