The following letters appeared in the June 2007 issue of The Wave Magazine.
Editor's Note:
In the ’80s, I intensely wanted – sorry, needed – parachute pants. In my mind, parachute pants were fashion shorthand for cool. They were a little bit break dance, a little bit danger, and the de facto badge for cutting-edge style (at the time). I was convinced that if I didn’t get a pair before starting junior high, my new, would-be friends – the cool kids, that is – would know from my head-to-toe Ralph Lauren outfit that my mother still dressed me.
For those who don’t remember, parachute pants were men’s trousers made from heavy rip-stop nylon. Often worn very tight, the multiple zippered pockets were rendered pretty much useless. The tapered legs also had zippers at the ends, and the colors were often blindingly bright.
I didn’t understand why my mother denied me the simplest luxuries a young teen in the ’80s desired most: A mullet, 10 Swatch watches, Oakley sunglasses, and these parachute pants. Her argument was that I didn’t look good in trendy clothing and that my stature called for more “classic attire.”
In hindsight, I guess she was right. No skinny white kid has any business dressing like Turbo from Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo. I had no community rec centers to save by raising money from a dance competition. Who was I kidding?
I just wanted to be unique and not conform, but as my mother also pointed out, everyone else was wearing parachute pants, so I wouldn’t really be all that original in my sense of style. You can’t really argue with that logic either. It’s like the Burning Man people who seem to detest society and insist they’re nonconformists… while wearing the exact same faux fur vest all their other nonconformist friends are wearing.
The main argument against the trendy pants was that they were obviously trendy pants. Parachute pants probably lasted for maybe half a decade and are currently iconic when it comes to mocking the era – not unlike bell-bottoms, which are inherently ’70s.
So here’s what I learned the hard way: Every wardrobe needs certain staples, pieces that will never go out of style. For guys, a nice broken-in pair of Levis, a white, short-sleeve knit Polo shirt, a navy Brooks Brothers blazer, Gucci loafers and a Rolex watch is an outfit that will forever be classic, mark my words. For women, all you need is a bikini. Kidding. A Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress with some Charles David strappy shoes will work today or 30 years from now.
Of course, there are always variations on the classics. For evidence, take a stroll down Santa Cruz Avenue in Los Gatos and peruse some of the fashion boutiques. True, there’s some really trendy stuff out there right now that’s not going to make it to next fall (skinny jeans, we hardly knew thee). But within these stores, you’ll find some subtle variations on timeless apparel for men and women. Ditto for Santana Row. Our feature with many examples of classic fashion begins on page 25.
The only thing you won’t find in the stores are parachute pants. Apparently, mothers around the greater Silicon Valley have destroyed every pair in existence.
On last issue’s cover, we featured a Sesame Crusted Ahi Tuna and neglected to include the “On the Cover” section in the Table of Contents. The dish is from The Wine Cellar (50 University Ave., Los Gatos 408-354-4808 www.wincellarlosgatos.com) and it’s a sashimi grade ahi, seared rare and served with jasmine rice, Asian vegetables, chili oil and a hot mustard soy butter sauce. It’s quite delicious. Design director Chris Schmauch shot the dish with a Nikon D200 digital camera in natural light using a 60mm lens.
*This Article appeared in Volume 7, Issue 06 of The Wave Magazine.
In the ’80s, I intensely wanted – sorry, needed – parachute pants. In my mind, parachute pants were fashion shorthand for cool. They were a little bit break dance, a little bit danger, and the de facto badge for cutting-edge style (at the time). I was convinced that if I didn’t get a pair before starting junior high, my new, would-be friends – the cool kids, that is – would know from my head-to-toe Ralph Lauren outfit that my mother still dressed me.
