Under the influence: david bowie

Although ardent Ziggy Stardust followers experienced isolation with Bowie's exploration of the Gamble and Huff sounds from Philadelphia, plastic soul was my catalyst to all things Bowie. This Bowie emerged from the overtly glam rock era in stylish and fitting suits and crooning like Frank Sinatra backed by Luther Vandross.

Bowie's shock of red hair akin to my own crested his muted colors of suiting and shirting. A school-age accident resulting in his differently hued eyes served not as a malady but as his unique and celebrated feature. A performance on Soul Train portrayed Bowie as simultaneously coveting the street style of the Los Angeles youth of the audience while cheekily poking fun of himself as the "white limey." All of this while singing "Fame" and remaining nothing less than cool.

My introduction to The Thin White Duke precipitated my consumption of all things Bowie. His Ziggy Stardust obsessed with space and rock and roll; his Berlin that wandered lost in the soundscapes of new wave and the austere politics of the cold war; or his single-clad white suit that brought a reincarnation of soul to the sound of the materialist 1980s. Whatever his incarnation, Bowie is a critical influence and was pivotal in one of my style mantras: It is really not what you wear but how you wear it.