Psychic Fashions

Text and drawings by Gerald Grow

The Metaphysical Bookstore and Delicatessen in San Francisco held a "Psychic Faire" and invited attenders to "dress psychic." Our roving cartoonist was present to cover the scene.

Rodney Rasmussen, 22, of Burlingame, wore a genuine Tibetan lambsleather vest on top of jungle fatigues. He pondered our question at great length ("Do you think the development of psychic abilities will change the political attitudes of the American middle class?") before replying, "Far out."


Grandmother Mary filled a whole corner of the room with the aura from her tasteful black cape with deep purple sleeves radiating from the arm-slits. next to her on a bed of crushed velvet, her crystal ball glowed. We tried several times to get her attention, but she had withdrawn here eye inward to a meditative nap.

Linda Solenoid, our next encounter, shone forth from a vivid Guatemalan blouse with a psychedelic sunburst mandala. She wore her astonishing hair in a solid white natural, like a halo of redeemed steel wool. For a few quiet moments, we felt blessed by her beatific smile, which she beamed silently in answer to each of our questions.

Ricardo Wilhelms, of Orange County, discussed at great length his theory of Cosmic Lymph as we picked ourselves off the floor after colliding in the corridor. Wilhelms (who was wearing a smashing rayon cape dyed in deep blue streaked with violet, lavender, orange, and ketchup) believes in a separate cosmic circulatory system where society's contaminations are periodically cleansed, filtered, and eventually reunited with the mainstream -- thus rebalancing it. Standing with casual ferocity in his white Keds, Wilhelms went on the expound his solution to world problems at length while we slipped away unnoticed to our next encounter, Kentucky Blue.

Mr. Blue wore a classic original matching combo from the golden age of Wrangler jeans. This etternal favorite had, with time, taken on the frayed patina of a denim sphinx. It was imaginatively patched-out with scraps from a  red handkerchief, bits of drapery, and what appeared to have been a condom. Mr. Blue offered us a free Tarot reading for only $5 (no house limit), but we declined, blackjack being our game.

Mr. Blue's glasses were so original as to be beyond description, let alone duplication. Broken in three places, the glass was held together by vintage map-lines of seasoned epoxy. The tapes, strings, glues, and spints that had once held the glasses together now became the frame itself and rose from mere practicality to an original work of applied funk.

Moving ahead, we encountered Cunningham St. Johns, just returned from his laboratory in the Galapagos, where he has been studying the pscyhic abilities of giant tortoises. Dr. St. Johns wore his latest innovation -- sunglasses for the third eye. We asked him, "Will psychic abilities create a new power elite?" -- but, unfortunately, we were unable to understand any entire sentence of his answer. Our notes contain these fragments: "Pituitin-regulated parasympathetic chakras... astral anti-gravity... exploitation of the psychic sneeze..." We left him looking off in the distance, perhaps directing his work on the Galapagos by telepathy.

Our next encounter was with a being we could only identify as "Poopsie," who wore a stunning drape of alternating squiggles and discs dashed out in successive shocks of complementary colors. At a distance, it looked dull brown with a mysterious sheen, but up close it made one unable to focus one's eyes. Poopsie's eyes were (his? her? its?) most remarkable feature. Only years of practice could have produced such an intense blankness, and many will despair--on seeing our picture--of ever attaining such leadership in the field of psychic fashion.

In our next interview, we were masterfully ignored by Diamond Fritz, master of the art of self-absorption. We asked him several questions, such as, "When there are so many pressing social problems, how can you justify your absorption in personal growth?" In reply, he said, "Why do you ask?" or "Notice how you ask that" or "Who do you really want to ask that of?"

Diamond was wearing a loose-fitting I. Magnin dhoti of fine silk that had been skillfully disguised as coarse muslin. His chic beard flowed with studied casualness from a tangle of utterly unkempt, smelly, and disgusting hair.

Our next model was Carlos DeFlippe, who wore his knee-length beard over knee-high socks. But most remarkably, Carlos wore an expression of such methodical intensity in his eyes that you could not help feeling he was a pace-setter in the beau monde of psychic fashions. In reply to our question, "How can people protect themselves against psychic attack?" he let loose a series of sharp darts with his keen black eyes that left us looking for some psychic bandages.

Sri Akash Goldberg of Pinole studied Zen, Yoga, Tantra, Tibetan Buddhism,  Kung Fu, Karate, Aikido, Shaolin, Tai Chi, Thai Boxing, tying knots, and First Aid one weekend at the Oakland YMCA. He has since been teaching Short High Intensive Training -- in which enlightenment (it is said) can be attained in 17 minutes of breathlessness. He sported a finely polished monk's pate, marred only by two recent razor-knicks in the region of the occipital lobe. We asked Sri Goldberg if he thought psychic power was being developed as a military weapon. His reply was a look of resigned but affluent compassion, highlighted by his tastefully soiled karate gi. He was also out of psychic bandages.

Betsy Bedlam, psychic housewife, came dressed in a heavy alpaca sweater, with fine vinyl riding boots rising to meet her baggy brown cords. She carried a string of plastic beads, about which she would say nothing except to hint that her 7-year-old daughter had found it mysteriously in a box of breakfast cereal and that it seemed to have some occult significance. We asked her, "How will the development of psychic realities affect traditional religious beliefs?" But she moved away with an air of conspicuous invisibility.

Our next interview was with Christopher Jaycee, dressed in an elegantly simple Nazarene robe, very practically augmented by a full-lenfth KYX No. 3 zipper. On closer inspection, we found his robe to be fully quilted with Polyfil, machine-washable, and designed so two can be zipped together to form a double.

He said it was the cat's pajamas for watching and fasting, and it even had padded knees.

Our last interview was with B.J. Barzoon, a Kundalini Yoga expert, who came wearing nothing but his electric-blue aura.

We hastily left B.J. to a crowd of admirers and hurried away, as the vibes were getting pretty thick.

Outside, we overheard Randy and Linda -- apparently co-equals in an LTR (Long Term Relationship) arguing. As they passed out of range, we heard Linda fume, "If we're all one, Randy, what color are my eyes?"

Although we have been able to give only a brief sketch of this rich and colorful field, we are sure that no one seriously concerned with such matters can afford to overlook the implications of an invitation to "dress psychic."

Copyright © 2006 Gerald Owen Grow

Written and drawn after attending a Psychic Faire in San Francisco, posters for which encouraged attenders to "dress psychic."

Disclaimer: This is satire. All names and events depicted here are fictitious and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely accidental.

.