Fully Vested.

A few weeks back, I wrote an entry that conjured up images of my present self and my 20-year-old self having a conversation about hair. Long hair.

Toward the end of that imagined conversation,  myself and I had a brief exchange about vests. It went like this: What’s next? You gonna call me on your space phone and ask me why we wear so many vests? We fucking like vests!

When I wrote that, I had a fleeting memory that maybe me and the guys in Storytown wore vests a bit too frequently. I wasn’t sure. The drummer was just a shirtless animal, so he wasn’t culpable in any way. But the rest of us?

I investigated. And this is just a sampling of what I found. Waistcoats galore.

Enjoy.

Just another serious musician. In a floral vest. In a junkyard.

It’s hard to look away. So don’t.

Vest on Tim.

Minutes later. Vest on Brad.

The vest is still a part of pop and rock fashion today. The guy from that one band that sings about using somebody wears one. Also, this guy. And there’s more.

leather.

Flowers. Note the beaded necklace that came to a "head" with a skull. Awesome.

Vested.

And more vested. In a studio. In front of no one. Being twenty = being dumb.

Yep. Add in some ripped jeans for good measure.

We have a winner. Shiny. Paisley. Vesty.

Yeah. We wore the vests. But so did our heroes at the time, like Bono, The Edge, Peter Buck. Everybody. So we were no different. It’s funny to look back at these pics and think how serious we were. If we had made it huge, maybe some kid would have dressed like us. Alas that never happened. In June we’ll play again. Smarter. Wiser. Older.

And you can bet on me to wear one. I’ll be vested.

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