Читать книгу Nirvana Is Here - Aaron Hamburger - Страница 15

UNIFORM

DALTON STUDENTS WERE REQUIRED TO WEAR a uniform, available only at Stewart’s, a department store in tony, WASPy Birmingham, where the streets were lined with expensive German cars or Jaguars, and shops selling imported British tea and jams.

In Stewart’s, the staff dressed in tailored knit suits and stood off to the side, speaking in tasteful, quiet tones only when spoken to. The air was perfumed with wood varnish and the walls were decorated with black and white photos of classic roadsters. Here you could buy such exotic articles of clothing as wool coats with wooden toggles, cable knit sweaters, plaid ties, or “boat shoes” whose wearers might wear them on actual boats.

Like poor relations, the Dalton uniforms were hidden in a special section at the back. “He’s in high school?” the saleswoman asked in a doubtful voice. “He might do better in one of our junior sizes.” We found a tight polyester blue blazer that fit like a straitjacket and stiff grey wool slacks that scratched my legs.

“Cute,” Mom said, but didn’t sound very convincing.

Watching my unending reflection in a three-sided mirror, I felt like a victim of multiple personality disorder, with all my various selves staring back at me.