In 1995 I lived on Zlotopolski Street in Tel Aviv. I took a vacation to Malaysia and upon returning gave my friends batik shirts.
I might have posed them in hopes of recreating this picture from a few years earlier from Taipei, Taiwan, where a buddy had recently come back from Cambodia.
What exactly I was going for is lost to the sands of time. I suspect I wanted to assemble an international team of ridiculous people, who would not flinch from the fiction of an elite unit dedicated to batik and poetry.
Today I believe such efforts at style and humor will be viewed as cultural appropriation. Still, both of these images bring back memories of good times shared, if not good sartorial choices.
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