Clothing offers protection and modesty -- but fashion involves a complext set of signals and responses. Reporters for YO! (Youth Outlook) explore clothing and identity in the next issue -- some by dressing in others' clothing for a day. Richard Douglass, 15, drew on his own recent experience. Douglass is on the staff of YO! (Youth Outlook) a newspaper by and about young people published by Pacific News Service.

"What do you think?" I asked my friend as I stepped out of my room. She gave a little snort. "It's gay," she said bluntly, trying to contain her laughter. She was giving me a ride to a dance and I was trying on shirts at the last minute. "Let's go," she said, clearly annoyed. "You take longer than a girl!"

The shirt I showed her was a bit extravagant -- silver, shiny and see-through -- but how did that make it gay?

Experience has shown me that anything considered weird, outlandish, or extravagant is, by default, gay. And in high schools, "gay" -- and "gimp," and "faggot" -- are most definitely insults.

Obviously these words can hurt a lot more if you actually are gay -- people are saying that there's something wrong with who you are. But there's still a sting attached if you aren't gay. High school is a test of guys trying to be tough to appeal to the opposite sex. To call a guy gay is to say he's not man enough. And just as no one seems to think manly and gay go together, no one thinks you can be stylish and straight. What if you like girls and you also like clothes that don't look like uniforms? People are quick to call a guy gay if he ventures outside of the baggy-pants, sports-shoes, baseball-cap-and-sweatshirt look.

At least that's what I learned when I tried to have fun with the way I dressed.

Last fall, after eight years at an all-boys grammar school, I was excited about high school. There wouldn't be a neatnik dress code and there would be girls. I was ready to explode onto the social scene.

I usually wore somewhat baggy jeans and a plain white T-shirt. The interesting parts were my shirts and hats. I had colorful shirts and shiny shirts, Hawaiian shirts and elastic shirts, even a couple of see-through shirts. But my hats made me famous -- starting with a black Kangol cap, then a cowboy hat, an Italian marine's hat, a beanie, a black leather beret, a silver cap, a Chevy's sombrero, a pleated swing hat and a sailor cap.

When I didn't wear hats I did things with my hair. I didn't care what other people thought as long as I thought it looked good.

For Halloween I went all out -- low-top boots with belted khakis rolled up to about knee level so they looked like pedal pushers, socks pulled up as high as they would go, my mom's black cape and my black cowboy hat. As a finishing touch, my sister painted my fingernails bright pink.

That day, I started to get the feeling that people did not agree with my fashion choices. When I realized they were giving me strange looks and whispering about me, I started to lose my confidence.

When I learned that a lot of people thought I was gay, I was flabbergasted. It never occurred to me that some people might actually take me seriously -- because I sure don't. People had put me in a box and categorized me without knowing me. How dare they?

The whole thing rattled me. At that point, I wasn't sure who I was yet and people were telling me I was someone else. I withdrew from the social scene like a scared turtle. When popular people talked to me, I often stumbled over my words. My clothing style became usually just jeans and a T-shirt. I was very unhappy -- when I stopped expressing myself through my look, I denied myself part of my identity.

Several months have passed and I feel better, but I'm still very careful about what I wear to school. When shopping, I constantly ask myself if different groups or individuals would look down on me because of what I might choose to wear.

I definitely look forward to the day when I can dress the way I want. For the time being, though, I'm careful not to stray too far from the path. My closet is still full of silk shirts and wild hats. I haven't gotten rid of my stylish self -- I've just put it in storage for a while.