Earlier you mentioned how during this period, in the late 1970s, you also started wearing a Fez for the first time.
My outing, growing up in the village, was walking to the library where I made my way to the art history and fashion sections in particular. There I learned that men in the nineteenth century put on tuxedo jackets after dinner and retired with a cigar. The fact that you “frame” a certain action with a piece of clothing: that fascinated me immensely! When I read that, I immediately believed in that too. I recognized that feeling.
At one point, we were vacationing as a family in the Islamic part of the former Yugoslavia, where I found a Fez in a store. That was a well-known symbol at the time by the British comedian Tommy Cooper: when he put it on, he became the character of the zany magician. I had no substance to that, but it was confirmation that it had a kind of “framing” effect on that role he was playing. My father then, in that store, bought that headgear for me and it has always remained something special for me from then on. When I had to do homework and I took off the Fez afterwards, I literally left that homework behind me as well. Everything stayed under that hat, so to speak.
Later, when I had children of my own, wearing the Fez still meant that I was completely comfortable in my own skin. Then they could ask me anything and it was good, as far as I was concerned. Until the Fez was put away again, then that moment was over again. That is not demonstrative or exhibitionistic. It’s about what I feel when I wear something. For example, such a Fez.