Andy Warhol said that in the future, everybody would be famous for 15 minutes. I think the same could probably be said for designer clothing.

When I was younger and still living with my parents, I had to have nothing but the latest styles. Unburdened by the costs of rent or groceries, virtually all of my income was disposable. I spent a large portion of it on clothing, and accumulated a sizeable wardrobe. Once, I even maxed out a store credit card &045; within a week of having been issued it. I didn’t mind paying interest on the clothes, as long as I could look good. You could say I was a man called clotheshorse.

A decade later, I now realize how foolish and shallow it was to pursue style. First of all, after you reach a certain age, nobody cares what brand of clothing you wear. It’s not like your adult co-workers are going to ostracize you or make fun of you because your clothing didn’t come from a fashionable clothing store.

Along the same lines, there comes a time when wearing the latest styles can make you look ridiculous. Imagine a 30-year-old wearing those really baggy jeans that hang around their knees (allowing their boxer shorts to show), an oversized airbrushed T-shirt that looks like an illustration on the side of a custom van and fits like a night gown, and a wallet fastened with a chain to their back pocket, which, incidentally, is large enough to conceal an entire skateboard. Not a pretty mental picture, is it? I’m not sure whether that would look ridiculous or just plain pathetic.

Secondly, style is fleeting. If you are buying something only for its label, it will more than likely go out of style before it wears out &045; or, if you used credit to buy it, before it has been paid for. Most of the clothing brands I bought are no longer even around.

If you are in your early-to mid-thirties, do you remember Girbaud, Bugle Boy, Union Bay, Ocean Pacific, Esprit and Generra? How about Roadie jackets, parachute pants, camouflage T-shirts, heat-sensitive color-changing clothing and stone- or acid-washed jeans? They went from being must-haves to has-beens. Not all of the brands that were popular in my youth have disappeared, though. On a recent trip to Target, I noticed that they now carry B.U.M. Equipment clothing. Guess brand jeans have popped up in other discount stores, as have Calvin Klein and Levi. This leads me to believe that, for Tommy Hilfiger, K-mart is only about five years away.

Thirdly, slapping a label on clothing is done for only one reason: advertising. That way, the entire world (or, at least the people you encounter on that particular day) will know what brand of clothing you wear. It’s free advertising for the designer. How much money are you willing to pay for the privilege of advertising for them?

The consumers are not even the ones who determine what’s cool &045; they are only pawns in the fashion game. The advertising department makes that decision. By no coincidence, it seems like the most popular clothing is also the most heavily advertised clothing. Advertisers prey on our desire to fit in. If McDonald’s came out with a $50 Hamburglar shirt, or $80 Grimace pants, unveiled these styles on a TV show like American Idol, and plastered teen-oriented magazines with advertising, you can probably guess with a high degree of accuracy what the next trend would be. Did somebody say predictable?

I’m not against the designer clothing industry. I just now happen to find it an unnecessary added expense. As for my clothing preference today, I bypass trendy altogether and go on the side of quality and comfort &045; without going broke doing it.

Dustin Petersen is an Albert Lea resident. His column appears Mondays.