My blue suede shoes, the guy with the white glove!
I wasn’t a typical Elvis fan, as a matter of fact, I didn’t know much about the guy other than his fashion sense – and his Graceland mansion! His hair was the winner. I haven’t seen anyone try to pull the Elvis hair except at a Halloween party – that’s how genius it was!
I remember watching tapes of his performances when I was young but instead of watching him, I watched the audience scream in fascination. I wondered what was so great about him though for a white guy, he really had his moves.
After I listened to ‘Don’t step on my blue suede shoes’, I wondered who actually wore blue suede shoes! Oh wait - its Elvis, he can get away with anything. He could wear banana leaves on his feet and still look great! I became obsessed with blue suede shoes.
I searched high and low and eventually got myself a pair. I wore them everywhere and had it not been for water, I would have taken them to the bathroom too. I practiced Elvis strokes till my feet bled. So much for thinking he wasn’t special.
While being Elvis’ little follower, another chap caught my attention. I was amazed at how fast I ditched poor Elvis. He wasn’t new to the world, but he was new to me. If there was ever fashion extraordinaire, he was it! Yep…to me, Michael Jackson made Elvis look like a karaoke case!
I lived for the black guy with the white glove! I watched his every move and literally almost lost a toe trying to pull the moonwalk. I listened to the album ‘Bad’ religiously. My blue suede shoes were replaced by black moccasins and white socks. I cut my trousers and stuck party glitter to my favorite jacket. I knew exactly how ridiculous I looked, but frankly, I could care less.
Had I not been a child, my mum would’ve sworn it was a midlife crisis. My hard African hair that needed to be hot combed every morning was now dripping with hair gel! You remember that wet look thing our mums did back in the day - or was it just my mum? I wrote letters, which I later found hidden at the back of my mums’ closet. No wonder he never replied!
When Thriller came along, I made it a point not to shower or change clothes for a week so I could smell and look just as bad as a zombie. Worried for my mental health, my mum declared enough was enough. I made her a deal, I promised to take a bath and cut down on the outrage if she took me to Neverland. I’d like to say I’m still waiting for that day but now that my buddy is gone, what’s the point. Still got the jacket though…