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Vice Blog

FASHION ISSUE EXTRA - YOUR DAUGHTER IS ONE


As a lonely country kid growing up in West Virginia I spent most weekends watching Night Flight and eating cereal. Night Flight was my first real exposure to punk and/or anything purposely alternative to my isolated rural life. After watching Times Square one night, the image of Nicky Marotta (the cool half of the Sleez Sisters!) would hotly possess my brain as my first girl crush. She was such an authentic punk delinquent that I was convinced she was not acting. I hoped the cameras had just followed her day to day to document her incorrigible vitality and sexy sassafrass for this film.

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She was everything I wanted to be, but--stone cold truth--I was not at all. I was a shy nerd who sort of emulated Mork from Ork. I wore comedic accessories such as a giant Hershey's Kiss-shaped baseball hat. I also wore an LED light-up headband and Pac Man antennae. I was a Weird Al Yankovic fan pining for Nicky's style and confused how to obtain it. I once tried to buy drugs and came home with Vitamin C. I wrote myself love letters and told the kids at school I had an admirer. I talked to my stuffed animals every night and would sometimes pitifully pray that they would magically come to life. Thank god the Furbees were invented.

I had never kissed a boy, been drunk, stole anything, never been in a scuffle and never back-sassed my momma. I just wasn't ready yet. Not a single bit of pleather in my hamper. But thanks to Night Flight, new wave, and Nicky, I kinda felt that I was approaching the crescendo of change. I needed help though. I needed my new wave style. And then I found Chess King.

Chess King was the one-stop shop for sluts, a reliable staple, in any mall, for trampy glam gear for men and women. It set itself apart from the basic mall shops by exuding the same new wave club vibe that I would see in movies. Excluding Cruisin' of course. The decor suggested that it could be as cool as a sex dungeon: chains dangling from the ceiling, lights low and strobey, music pumpin', sluts struttin', man-skeezers stretching into vinyl, people disappearing behind doors. This Sodom was right next to the Lane Bryant! I wasn't old enough to know why I was feeling a little turned on in Chess King, but I did know that it was sorta "bad" and bad was good enough to be punk. In fact, my friend Paul told me that was not even allowed to go inside a Chess King. I think his mom knew that not only was Chess King sorta "bad," it was also very similar to a gay bar.

Truthfully, I wasn't all that great at putting together Chess King outfits. I usually opted for the bright linen menswear which had the draping effect of a fancy grandma robe with shoulder pads (these shirts WERE for men) and I also included a bolo tie to bring it all together. My look was sorta Klaus Nomi meets Alfonso Ribeiro. It was quite some time till I was kissed.

ADRIANE SCHRAMM