Sure, it SEEMS funny enough. But if you have personally experienced walking down the piss-hot streets of New York City in August, wearing an ankle-length black lace Victorian dress with long sleeves, and 700 fringed Ian Astbury scarves trailing down from your antique black picture hat, you will know that HEAT and GOTH do not belong together.
You want to turn away a vampire but don't have any garlic or crosses? Fine. Just turn off the air conditioning in July. Little Bitey McFang will flee posthaste.
I relived the glory at the West Point graduation parade when I wore a black Betsey Johnson suit. It was roughly 80 billion degrees out, then, on the way to the parade field, someone's black lap dog runs out, so I had to carry this poor little runaway dog, while I'm sweating away in this black suit. Dogs? You know mammals? They radiate body heat. A lot of it.
There's a photo of me next to a cadet. He's wearing a wool parade uniform jacket, and he's not sweating his wang-a-dang off. Meanwhile, my face is melting into my suit. GOTHS DO NOT DO SUN.
The dog? Left with the post MPs and reunited with her owner later that day.
