Saturday, February 2, 2013

Chuck Taylors, Ratty Flannel, and Clubmaster Glasses

When I was a kid I broke my glasses. A lot. So, when Ii was ten and had broken my glasses for the umpteenth time my father took me to the bank, made me watch as he withdrew the money from my savings account, then drove me to the appointment where I was forced to buy for myself the most dreaded object in the world... black Nylon, military issue style glasses. I won't be posting a picture here because I spent the next five years of my life trying to do two things: avoid anyone trying to take my picture and break those damn glasses. I literally took a hammer to them once, but nothing. I ran over them with my bike. I did everything short of have them crushed in an industrial pulverizes. They would not break. And they were not considered fashionable. I wasn't getting any hipster irony points back in 1982 for having these glasses. Irony is a funny thing. Often misunderstood, or misapplied. But here's a case I'd like to offer for your inspection. 

Last summer I decided to have glasses made. I had Lasek surgery and hadn't worn glasses in over a decade, but I had a permanent squint that made me look either like Clint Eastwood or some dweeb in the library reading a book about beetles during lunch hour. Anyway, I had a pair of cheap frames made for me, but what I really wanted was this...

Ya. Ain't life just a kick in the rubber parts? I haven't gotten them yet because I still resent paying 1500 dollars for a procedure that wasn't fully successful, and since I wore glasses for 25 years I feel I've been tortured enough. Still, I have this selfish desire to actually see things. Maybe by the time I actually get these the hipster trend will have passed, and I can wear these Clubmaster glasses, a pair of Chuck Taylors, and some ratty flannel I got in a box from my older cousin. Just like I did in 1980. Maybe I'll celebrate the whole affair with a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, but I wouldn't bet on it. 

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