He Wore An Orange Nehru Jacket

Summary

In 1968, the author recounts the memorable experience of wearing an orange Nehru jacket and lime green bell-bottomed trousers to church, a bold fashion statement influenced by the Beatles and his desire to be cool amidst the psychedelic trends of the time.

Abstract

The narrative captures a moment in the author's youth during the 7th grade when his mother indulged his fashion aspirations by purchasing an orange Nehru jacket and lime green bell-bottomed trousers from Parisian's in 5 Points West, Birmingham. The outfit, inspired by the Beatles' style, was accessorized with a silver medallion, symbolizing the author's yearning for coolness during a transformative period of his life. Despite the ridicule from peers at the Methodist church, the author reflects on the experience with a mix of embarrassment and understanding, recognizing the innocence and experimentation of adolescence. The memory is further colored by the contrast with a fellow student's rock and roll performance, which the author admired without mockery. The outfit's cost and the author's subsequent decision not to wear it again underscore the narrative's exploration of self-identity and the social pressures of teenage years.

Opinions

The author expresses a sense of nostalgia and affection

To church one Sunday

7th grade, 1968. My mother takes me shopping to Parisian’s in 5 Points West, and even in Birmingham, Alabama, someone thought it was fair and fine to market Nehru Jackets for young men’s wardrobe fancy. Maybe the Beatles, my Rubber-Souled and Sgt. Pepper heroes who popularized such jackets for our psychedelic souls, had finally gotten over the “More popular than Jesus” thing, at least with retailers.

Those coats surely came in many colors, but the color I remember, the only color I seem to have ever known, was orange. Not a daisy orange, or even quite the fruit, but one that had those peach-ish overtones.

I had to have it, and god knows how much it cost or what penance my mother must have been paying, too, but she bought it for me. And then, to further delight, confuse, and toy with my affectations, she also bought me a pair of lime green and white striped bell-bottomed trousers.

Keep this image intact while I add that, to complete myself, I wore a silver medallion that someone gave me for Christmas that year. Fortunately, I don’t remember what shoes I wore, and if there’s a blessing anywhere in this story, that’s it.

Blessing, because, of course, what better place to dress up in this outfit than church, the Methodist kind, in that year when I started junior high and wanted, but didn’t know how in the slightest, to be cool?

I wonder about the lesson we had to hear that Sunday morning. I wish it were something about the Whore of Babylon, but it wasn’t because I still don’t know that story. I wouldn’t remember anything, anyway, because how could I since all my peers kept snickering and the orange jacket couldn’t match my red or sustain any rhythm of cool-calm in me?

A few months later, a guy whom I can still see clearly got his rock and roll band to play the junior high assembly stage. They rendered Creedence Clearwater’s “Proud Mary,” though only the “rollin’” part was distinguishable. Still, I saw him and never laughed at his beige Nehru, his dark glasses and greasy black hair that fell over his glassed eyes. Nor did I laugh when the song ended and he tried to yank the curtain across all of them so they could exit from our almost blinded eyes.

I got it, though I never wore my Nehru, nor those bell bottoms ever again.

They were just too expensive.

Thanks to Ellie Jacobson and Flint & Steel!

He Wore An Orange Nehru Jacket

To church one Sunday

Join Medium with my referral link - Terry Barr

Read every story from Terry Barr (and thousands of other writers on Medium). Your membership fee directly supports…