Punk?

Punk ?

When Macklemore was in the third grade, he thought he was gay.

Well, when I was in the third grade, I was thought punk.  

Let me take another chance to emphasize the word thought.

Because just like I think I can dance, other people glances may beg to differ. 

But hey, give me a break! So what if my definition of punk was that of Avril Lavigne in her 2002-2007 glory days! It was the third grade for gods sakes!

You see, I had just made a new friend and she had convinced me that our days of wearing pink and playing princess were over. She said it was time we embark on a new, more mature chapter of our lives and become “punk.”

Having never considered black a color prior to this, I had to steal a black T-shirt from my dads closet.  After about 30 rubber bands had been tied in every which way and order to keep it held onto my pubescent body, I put a lace tank top over the t-shirt, threw on some converse and departed for school the next day with a new tough look. 

When another mother glared at my outfit during our walk to school, my very own mother explained to her that I was going through an “experimental phase”. 

Once I got to class in my all black attire, my friend seemed only half-satisfied. “You have the look” she said “but now you need to attitude.”

And thus began the reign of terror that was my “punk” stage.  

I’ll save you the annoying details of me getting into arguments with the girls who wouldn’t accept Avril Lavigne as “the greatest artist of our generation.” Or how I would stay up until (gasp) 10 o’clock cutting up my old stocking and turning them into tacky “punk hand warmers” that I sold at school for $20 bucks a pop. 

Because when the school year ended, so did my punk stage. 

And since then I have yet to return. 

Until a few days ago that is … 

But this time Avril Lavigne was not my inspiration.

High fashion was.

Think Met Ball’s theme 2013 Punk: Chaos to Couture. 

I took that idea and ran with it, decorating my braids with saftey pin (no, for the hundredth time, it did not hurt they were just in my hair and not, in fact, touching my scalp) and painting my name across an old cropped leather jacket. 

Sticking with the black and white theme, I paired the look with an oversized contrasting “preppy” polo with black tights, pearls and boots. 

Not bad eh? 

I guess you can call it a pretty punky look.

Get it, like funky? no?

Until next time xx

Courtney