This town, like many other North American cities I'm sure, is rapidly turning into a haven for yuppies. They revel in their stupid square endeavors, completely oblivious to everything else. OK, we get it, the world revolves around them and the sun shines outta their ass.
I have written many times about my disdain for yuppies ( for lack of a better term) and their decadent lifestyles. Their scornful leers make laugh, much to their consternation, which amuses me even more. One thing is for certain however, they have absolutely no clue as to what a greaser is. They always seemed perplexed and sometimes intimidated by my, and my friends', demeanor.
Rolling through the epicenter of yuppie-ville last week, I felt the need for a coffee. Unfortunately the only place around was a Starbuck's. I hate their coffee and the contrived atmosphere makes me antsy. Some yoga-pants wearing yuppie princess was giving me the stinkeye. I was wearing some really nasty grease that I had found called "Lusti". That slimy shit is red. Bright red. Even when you comb it in, it leaves red and orange streaks in your hair. It was cold, so I was wearing my leather perfecto jacket. Guess they don't see to much of that in that part of town. Man, it's like shooting fish in a barrel.
A few years ago I attended a buddy's birthday at some rib joint in one of way too many snooty parts of town. A woman approached us and asked if we were going to a fifties party. My buddy had the presence of mind to answer that we were the fifties party. She was taken aback and briskly walked away, never fully understanding why we looked the way we did and the irony of the answer to her query.
Halloween on the other hand is a whole other story. This is the time of year that annoys the greasy cats and kittens the most. No, it ain't a costume and YES, we dress like this all the time.
I myself don't partake in this ritual. I can't really be bothered with messing around with make-up and costumes and such. I do enjoy looking at all the gals wearing various skanky costumes that seem to have become popular over the years, but that's about the extent of it.
I usually tend to stay home, because people assume that I am dressed up as a greaser and it fucking annoys me. I made an exception this year because my favorite Rockabilly band , Cousin Harley, were playing at a dance hall a few blocks away.
I usually end up hanging around the sizeable band room backstage, and I soon as I walked into that room I was confronted by probably the stupidest comment that I've heard for a long time. Some hippie, which I was trying to ignore, was babbling some nonsense and I heard "Robert Gordon' and " Howdy Doody" interspersed in his idiotic discourse. I look like Howdy Doody?! That moron was too stupid to realize how close he came to a punch in the head. Howdy Doody time hippie! Thwack !
Another moronic comment directed our way is " Eee-eh". Not the Canadian "eh" as in " This is good beer, eh?". It is intended to be a Fonzie "eh". I'm not always sure how to take it, but I suspect that is always said with a certain amount of disdain. This what the perception of fifties culture has boiled down to in modern society; a TV character from the seventies that was a caricature at best.
I watched some reruns of that show, and it wasn't all that funny. The Fonz " jumped the shark" long ago. This refers to the episode where he actually jumped over a shark and became the expression became synonymous with TV shows going bad. If we wanted to split hairs, we could look at the inaccuracy of the Fonz persona, which seemed to me a lot more Disco than Greaser.
Firstly the hair was all wrong, it covered his ears and wasn't greasy. His leather jacket had no lapels like a motorcycle jacket and looked like cheesy Disco wear. The jeans were all wrong as well. Being way too tight to begin with, they were too pale. He didn't wear a belt and, horror of horrors, they were not cuffed ! They got the motorcycle right, which was a '49 Triumph, although that seems a poor choice for a sit-com set in Milwaukee where Harley Davidson is headquartered.
At least when someone says "Eee-eeh" to a Canadian greaser we can respond with the apt retort of "Take off, eh?!"
Some of us also have a fondness of western shirts. Some people will smirk and sarcastically ask . " Where's your horse". Even in Western Canada where horse culture thrives, if you can believe it. There is no real appropriate response for a comment that dumb, so I just let it slide. There is one interesting advantage to wearing fancy western shirts: door staff, bouncers and bar owners ALWAYS assume that you are with the band. The benefit is that you never wait in line, are never charged cover, good for a few free drinks and chicks dig it. They don't need to know that I'm not in this particular band.
When the cold weather hits a warm jacket is required. A good choice as I had mentioned, is the leather perfecto jacket. This classic motorcycle jacket popularized by Marlon Brando is a good way to keep warm while still maintaining your cool. Many people will automatically assume that we ride motorcycles. I am often asked what I'm riding and always derive pleasure at seeing the expression on people's face when I point to a bicycle. Cops also seem to indulge in that misconception as well. Outdated as their perception may be, they still seem to have this antiquated belief that bad guys wear motorcycle jackets. Musicians wear motorcycle jackets, bad guys wear those ugly-ass glittery shirts and hats.
It is difficult to understands why people perceive certain things in certain ways, but I suspect that pop culture has a lot to do with it. Me and my greasy buddies just enjoy being greasy and that's it. There are only two exceptions to the rule, when you have to de-grease as it were: job interviews and appearing before a judge. You have to de-pomp your hair and borrow a "normal" shirt.Yikes!
That to me is truly frightening. That is a greaser's Halloween, way more scary than the real thing.