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Clothes have always been indications of status, dating waay back to when which cave man sported the best lookin animal pelt. Clothes, in fact, identify our gender, our nationality and our rank. And our aspirations. In a naked world, we would have to really prove ourselves. When public schools in my district introduced uniforms, requiring students to all dress alike, I was not against this. Made things a lot easier for me as a parent. There is safety in the numbers of sameness. Time enough to be classified by what you wear. Back in my college days during the early 1950s, the preppy look was in. Everybody, both guys and gals had to have a pair of white buckskin oxfords with red rubber soles. Gray flannel pants were an essential to the wardrobes of frat boys, along with navy blue pull overs. For girls, cashmere sweaters were to die for. I can remember rejecting guys who didn't conform to the fashion dictates of the day. The fact that they were usually smart and interesting wasn't a priority for me. I was conflicted by not courageous. My first year at Illinois I lived in the AKA house and clothes definitely mattered among these black female sorors. Once again, my own garb did not adhere to what I approved of in others. I was just never a clothes horse and my outfits were non descript. I did have a pair of white bucks but I never made my way up to a cashmere sweater. As was the case back then, what I lacked for in dress was compensated for by my color. The contempt of the darker girls toward me was thinly-disguised. But the guys always showed great appreciation for my being a "red-bone". In a way, the skin we wear is the ultimate mark of distinction.