Fashion, admittedly, is not my forte. My father wore khaki pants six days a week and dress pants on Sunday. That’s akin to the path I’ve generally followed through life, simple and practical. I clearly lack any credentials that would justify my commenting on today’s fashion trends among men, women, or those who are straddling the fence. But a lack of qualification has rarely hindered me from expressing an opinion, so here are a few observations.

Body piercings are something I don’t understand, except those in earlobes, which have a long tradition of aesthetically pleasing effects when adorning a lady or lass. On February 11, 2021, Entertainment Tonight featured a young woman who had sprayed Gorilla Glue on her hair, then realized it was a poor choice. They mentioned she has three children, so maybe that’s what the two nose rings and one in her lip represent. If she took a parenting class, perhaps they should give her a refund. The example she’s setting as a mother seems to reflect a pattern of questionable decisions.

Allergies have always bothered me, but apparently that’s not the case with people who sport nose rings. And a lip ring it seems would be hard to keep free of ketchup and other condiments. It could, however, provide a convenience by attaching a tiny reusable toothpick.

Some people have rings in their eyelids, cheeks, and places which shouldn’t be mentioned in a family friendly column. They set off beepers on airport scanners and avoid giant magnets which could ruin their day.

Without doubt, however, the worst placement for a piercing I have personally seen was a tongue ring, or maybe it’s called a stud. In a contest of bad ideas that young lady would have a good shot at a blue ribbon. If having a hole punched in your tongue didn’t take first place, I wouldn’t want to know what won. Some things we can’t unsee.

The most unusual decorative body alteration I’ve heard of was spotted a few years ago at Borum’s Service Station in Unadilla. A young man passing through on I-75 had car trouble and was towed there for repairs. The fellow had two protruding horns which were implanted beneath the skin in his forehead.

What the horns represent may be subject to speculation, but I would hate to share a tent with that guy on a camping trip. Adding horns to the head must be an intricate procedure. No doubt the devil is in the details. Thank goodness many of the restrictions on military service have recently been lifted. That lad should now be eligible to enlist and be all that he can be. God help his fellow soldiers.

Tattoos are another fashion area I don’t understand. I’m not referring to the small renderings which represent something significant or have artistic appeal. It’s the massive portraits that cover arms and bodies and even faces that seem a bit excessive. I will admit to once admiring the ship anchors tattooed on a young man at Mock Springs, the ice-cold swimming hole of my youth.

I was a kid of maybe ten or so, and he was probably in his mid-twenties or beyond. Perhaps he was in the Navy or had been at some point, because he had a blue anchor prominently featured on the calf of each leg. What first drew my attention was his girlfriend, a beauty queen who surely had a bookcase full of tiaras at home. It occurred to me those anchors may have kept her from drifting afar on the ocean of love, so I made a mental note that if I ever got inked to follow his lead.

Since I’ve managed this long without anchors, I’ll probably just stay the course. But I mention them to acknowledge the charm of some tattoos. I just don’t understand going overboard in using human flesh as a canvas. The man at the fair had ink everywhere, but at least he got paid for it.

Space won’t allow me to cover hair styles, attire, or figure reshaping so here are some quick thoughts. I don’t understand buying new jeans with factory tattered knees, how to get shampoo out of dreadlocks, adding fillers to emulate a Kardashian derriere, or Lady Gaga’s inauguration dress.

There is one personal fashion decision I look back on with a tinge of regret. My long-ago choice to part with a 1973 light blue leisure suit with dark blue trim was not fully thought out. Had I kept it, someone today would likely marvel at its odd splendor and pay a premium to have it in their wardrobe.

I could, however, be mistaken about that. Fashion, admittedly, is not my forte.