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November 18, 1987 - Image 39

Resource type:
The Michigan Daily, 1987-11-18

Disclaimer: Computer generated plain text may have errors. Read more about this.

los with clasps shaped like scorpions,
snakes and broncos in his store, Dream-
land, says they show up everywhere: "I
wear mine to Safeway."
Male and female Huskies shop not only
for the real old thing at about $7 or so, but
for artsy new versions that cost up to $30.
"The weirder they are, the more of a state-
ment they make," says Claudia Morgan,
whose Armadillo and Co. boutique carries
upscale bolos. Coming for Christmas: bolos
. clasped by machine parts-something
that would never be at home on any range.
SALLY J. CLARK in Seattle
The young and the wristlets: Like the Grate-
ful Dead, friendship bracelets are a fad
that just keeps truckin'. Legend has it that
the colorful bracelets, plaited from embroi-
dery yarn, were originally sold at concerts
a decade or so ago by ticket-hungry Dead-
heads. Since then, the ornaments have ma-
terialized periodically at various colleges.
Supposedly, the bracelets are made by one
friend for another, to be worn on the wrist
or ankle until they disintegrate; when that
happens, some wearers say, your wish will
come true. "It's fun," says Jim Balesh, a
Notre Dame junior who treasures the ver-
sion his little sister made.
At the University of Colorado, "every-
body's wearing them now," according to
Maggie Isern, who sells the bangles for
$1.50 each. Well, not quite everybody. "I
think it's one of those things you need to
have a granola girlfriend for," says Colora-
do sophomore Ned Rozbicki, who lacks the
girl as well as the gewgaw. Some students
eschew the trend because of its hippie asso-
ciations, and some avoid the fray for esthet-
ic reasons: after a year or so of aging, the
bracelets can grow rather, um, ripe.
MICHAEL MEHLE in Boulder and
Dress reversal: Out is in at Johns Hopkins
this fall-inside out, that is. Stylish women
students-and a few intrepid men-are
wearing their sweat shirts and, sometimes,
their sweat pants, with the wrong side

showing. "It's so much cooler because all of
the fleece is on the outside," says biology
sophomore Dana Marinacci, a leading fan
of the fad. "That's really important when
you're standing over some Bunsen burner
in organic chemistry."
Quite a few students, of course, have al-
ways worn their sweats that way when the
clean laundry ran out, and, indeed, some of
the Hopkins outsiders seem motivated
mainly by necessity. But there's another
reason for baring your fleece, according to
freshman Steve Bretz. "It's a great conver-
sation icebreaker," he says with a grin. "I
get all kinds of people asking me if I know
my shirt's inside out ... and, besides, it can
be a way to meet girls."
EVAN CHUCK in Baltimore
Uni-formed: "One size fits all" used to rank
as one of the Truly Great Lies, right up
there with "I'll call you." But at Texas Tech
in Lubbock-and an array of other college
towns-a line of uni-sized clothing called
Units is making good on the promise. The
simple fashions are styled of polyester-cot-
ton fabric in sprightly shades of blue,
green, red and black, cut in basic squares
and circles that really do adjust to most
female shapes. The price is right: $24 for a
skirt or top, $5 for a "bandeau" that can be
transformed into a hat, belt or scarf. And
since everything is mix or match, says
freshman business major Mary Kathryn
Heinrich, "you only have to buy a couple of
things to make a bunch of outfits."
Units started last year in Dallas and has
quickly spread to 38 outlets, many near
campuses around the country. What's
transformed them into a uniform, howev-
er, may have more to do with convenience
than chic. "Most college girls hate iron-
ing," says Linda Offut, owner of the Lub-
bock franchise. "With Units they can wash
it, dry it and put it on." That message may
not be lost on college guys, either. Offut
reports that a few have recently skulked
into the store to buy black pegged pants "to
exercise in."
LINDA BURKE in Lubbock

Well worn: Students display
their inside-out sweat shirts at
Johns Hopkins (top), their
mix-and-match outfits at
Texas Tech and their
frayable 'friendship bracelets'
on the campus of Notre


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