Clothes mark the man.

Pathetic as it is to admit, I still dress in essentially the same manner as when I was in my teens. Not quite so many t-shirts, I suppose, and I quickly got over that unfortunate infatuation with combat boots that took hold of me in college, and none of my jeans are ripped up anymore (not intentionally, anyway). Apart from those things, yeah, I still dress pretty much the same as I have for the past quarter-century. It's just not something I pay that much attention to.

Apart from those wacky t-shirts and my hats, I don't think I've ever purchased a single item of clothing?not even socks?for myself. They've all been either Christmas gifts or hand-me-downs from good-hearted people who clearly felt pity for me and my slovenly ways. They never make a big deal about it?in general they just say, "Here are some shirts," and pretty much leave it at that. I always accept.

Along with the shirts and the pants, I've been wearing a ratty trench coat and an even rattier fedora since I was about 16 or 17 (though each are replaced every few years). This is all very well-documented, sadly enough.

I began doing that for the simple reason that in high school I started watching a lot of film noir. Even a little too much, maybe. I'd never latched on to the whole leather jacket thing the rest of the punks in Wisconsin (and most everyplace else) did?mostly because leather jackets were expensive, but I could pick up a tattered old trench coat at the Salvation Army (or, cheaper still, in my folks' closet). Even as the whole noir/punk thing faded, though, the hat and the coat remained. It just made sense?my hair was getting longer, and the hat kept it out of my eyes. Later, the hat would become a more versatile tool, the wide brim providing a kind of bumper that would give me a split second warning before I ran into another wall or another tree. The coat, too, was simply more practical than anything else I had. Plus it was waterproof and warmer in the winter than any of my other winter coats.

Although my initial youthful impulse was to try and be something I wasn't (namely Elisha Cook, Jr.), it soon became little more than what I happened to wear.

Here's the problem, though. Every few months it seems, and sometimes more frequently than that, some new movie character or rock star or whatever else would appear on the scene wearing the same thing. If someone appears in the public eye (however briefly) wearing a trench coat, a fedora or both, it's assumed immediately on the part of at least some people I encounter, that I'm trying to look like these actors or rock stars.

Since the early 80s, and in no particular order, I have been accused of trying to mimic the Blues Brothers, Freddy Krueger, Stevie Ray Vaughan (after his death), Kid Rock, Columbine's Trench Coat Mafia, Darkman, a handful of others. In more recent days, it's been the stars of The Matrix movies.

Others simply assume that I'm Hasidic.

(It's like an old friend of mine who grew up in Philadelphia in the 70s wearing flannel shirts. When she visited Seattle circa 1998, she didn't even think about it. Boy, was she embarrassed.)

As each movie or performer fades from the public consciousness, the sidewalk jibes vanish as well, only to be replaced by something else in a few weeks' time.

Now, it's neither here nor there with me, really. I find it a little irksome, but no more than that. In general, I don't care too much what people think or what I look like. I have very clear, logical reasons for dressing the way I do. It is interesting, though. Several times I've been accused of mimicking the look of something or someone I've never even heard of. It wasn't until a few months ago that I bothered to watch that first Matrix movie?and to be honest, I wasn't all that impressed. My coat can do much more than their coats can, anyway?like get caught in subway doors, or snagged on fire hydrants and open gates. Let's see that Keanu Reeves' coat do that!

Despite that, I have to walk down the sidewalk every day, hearing people yell "Hey, Matrix!" What the hell does that even mean?

Here's the really funny thing about it all. If I did follow a fashion trend, if I chose to dress myself the way everybody else did?corporate logo shirt, NYPD or FDNY baseball cap, short haircut, whatever else the young people seem to be doing to ensure that they all look exactly alike nowadays?if I dressed the way the billboards or the commercials told me to dress?nobody would blink a goddamn eye. But because I dress the way I've always dressed, I get shit for trying to look like someone else. Isn't that odd?