A Touch of Class
This poem speaks of the fashion rat-race that many young people (and adults) find themselves competing in.

It’s an ever-changing curriculum
Which needs guts and observation
It takes a lifetime to learn
And grants you an elite certification

No need to change your class
And yes, it’s taught in every grade
From preschool all through high
Every kid knows the charade

The trendy rules are posted
Old ones are tossed to trash
Your status put to the test
In attempt to make a smash

New wardrobes are purchased
To look the very best
Looking good, you’ll fit right in
C’mon and join the rest

Yank a Burberry-printed scarf
A crooked, designer skirt
Add a dangling Negrin or two
Throw on a Tommy shirt

Create a bobby pin ‘X’
Attach a ribbon bow
Slide in a two-inch hairband
And then your hair will glow

Fling that Harrod’s handbag
Don a spikey shoe
Slip on a Gucci wristwatch
Without further ado

The more bizarre and rad
The more extra credit
Daring, bold, and totally absurd
These earn you respectable merit

Live by the fashion theory
Go according to the books
Score the ace of pure chic
And ignore those questioning looks

This subject isn’t too simple
And many students have failed
They were trapped in the lure of style
And, politically speaking, were jailed

If you’re having second thoughts
Then this course is not for you
Pat yourself on the back
For being unabashedly true

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