I had one of those enormous sweaters that went virtually to the knees, with the belt for closure (sounds like some form of therapy). It was about the only "rad" thing of apparel I possessed back then. My parents were rather "old fashioned" (being good Polish Catholics), and kept our closet full of plain, nondescript things to wear - no "beatnik" clothing, as my dad would call it. Of course, I wanted the stuff and beg, pleaded, cried, screamed, all to no avail. Surprisingly, the parochial school I attended, which was staffed by strict, traditional Polish-American nuns, was rather lax in allowing what threads one donned. We would look with envy at the kids who were "fortunate" enough to look like they raided the closets of David Collins, and to a lesser degree, Jeb Hawkes and Sebastian Shaw. Well, as they say, all things are in hindsight. Reflecting now, I'm glad my parents did not permit us to dress "groovy". (I wasn't allowed my first pair of "wire-rim" glasses until after my sophomore year in high school - even then my dad complained bitterly about "beatnik glasses", and this was 1973!)
Gerard
