"These days I am a middle-aged man who works the door at a bar in Chicago that is reasonably popular with the youths, and I am routinely flummoxed..."

"... by the sartorial flotsam that comes packing itself in. The other night a guy came in with a shoulder-length butt cut and his T-shirt tucked into his jeans. 'Now there’s a dork,' I thought. I could’ve clocked him from down the block. But no. An hour later I went outside, and he was making out in the alley with a six-foot freaking supermodel — and she was goth. Or at least she was dressed like what I consider to be a goth; nowadays I don’t even know..... Why is everybody under the age of 30 these days dressed like an actual lunatic?... The subcultures of my youth were a sort of surrogate extended family. In a society jettisoning the type of organizations and communities that stitched it together over the 20th century, finding someone or a group of someones who were the same thing as you served as a bulwark against the fracturing sense of atomization. Making up a subculture every couple of months basically does the opposite, keeping you permanently aloof from the kids around you. I mean, half these things barely sound like groups of anything. What the hell is a performative matcha boy — some guy who drinks a thing? How’s that going to be your tribe?"

Writes Thomas Morton, in "Gen Z-ers Dress Like They’ve Never Worn Clothes Before" (NYT gift link)(lots of photos at the link).

#1 reason for blogging this story: It used my favorite word, "flummox."