Michael Jackson was a picky dresser, and he wanted to stand out. That’s why his costumes had a lot of details that made everyone wonder why they were there and what they meant. For example, almost every jacket Michael Jackson wore had an armband on the right sleeve, and some of his jackets also had “777” sewn onto them.
We at Bright Side are fascinated with Michael Jackson`s wardrobe, and we`re ready to reveal some of the secrets behind his costumes!
1. Why he wore smaller costumes at the end of his shows
Michael Jackson`s dance routines were very physically strenuous, and he gave his all during his performances. By the end of the show, he would often lose up to 5 lbs, and his waist would become one inch thinner. And since it was important that his clothes fit perfectly, so that he could show off his dance moves, every next costume was a bit smaller than the previous one.
2. How his lean shoes worked
Michael Jackson`s shoes that helped him defy the laws of gravity had a V-shaped clasp at the bottom of the heels. With its help, he could hook into a nail attached to the floor and perform his famous 45-degree forward tilt. However, to be able to do that and to keep his whole body straight, an incredible amount of core and leg strength was also needed.
3. Why he only wore one glove
Michael had vitiligo, a skin condition where patches of your skin lose pigment. It started on his hand and he wanted to cover it up. And he thought it would look too ordinary to wear 2 gloves, so he would only wear one.
4. Why almost every jacket had an armband on the right sleeve
Michel Jackson just wanted his clothes to be different from everyone else’s. And having an armband on a sleeve makes your look distinguishable. Michael also liked to make his fans wonder why that armband was there.
5. Why there are 3 № 7s sewn onto his jackets
Michael was the 7th child in his family. Also, he was born in 1958, and if you add 19 plus 58, it equals 77.
6. Why he never polished his shoes
Once, the singer`s managers were concerned about the condition of his shoes and asked his costume designer to polish them. He did it, but it made Michael extremely angry. He explained that the leather was worn off exactly as he needed it to be, and that polishing would make it too slippery for him to perform his dance moves.
7. Why he wore white socks
Michael loved wearing white socks for several reasons. No one else wore white socks with black shoes. Moreover, they would catch the light and attract attention to the movements of his feet when he was dancing.
8. Why he taped his fingers
Hand movements were an important part of Michael Jackson`s dance routines. So he and his costume designers decided to wrap white tape around his fingers in order to attract more light. Michael also decided it would be more unusual to only tape his index, ring, and pinkie fingers. It was also fun for him, because fans would ask why only 3 of his fingers were taped.
When Michael danced, he would unconsciously put his 2 untaped fingers together. And that would also add mysteriousness to his performances, since the fans would think this sign had a secret meaning.
9. What the letters CTE on his jackets stand for
These letters don`t stand for anything. In the 90s, Michael`s costume designers created a few new shirts for him. He liked them, but he wanted to add some letters on the epaulets. He said it didn`t matter which ones, so his costume designers put all of the letters of the alphabet into a hat, and took 3 of them out at random. That`s where the letters “CTE” came from.
Do you think Michael Jackson had great taste in clothes? Is there any costume of his that you like in particular? We`d love to hear your thoughts in the comments!
Entitled Customer Threw Fresh Juice at Me – I’m Not a Doormat, So I Taught Her a Lesson She Won’t Forget…
When an entitled customer threw her drink in my face, humiliating me in front of everyone, she assumed I’d just take it quietly. Little did she know, she was in for a surprise—and a lesson she wouldn’t forget.
That morning, I stepped into the health food store, the familiar scent of fresh produce and herbal teas greeting me. It was the start of another day at work, where I’d been earning a living for the past year. As I tied my apron, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different today.
“Hey, Grace! Ready for another thrilling day of juice-making?” my coworker Ally joked from behind the counter.
I laughed, shaking my head. “Yep, gotta keep those entitled customers happy, right?”
But the knot in my stomach told me otherwise. There was one customer who made our jobs miserable every time she came in.
We had dubbed her “Miss Pompous,” and it was a fitting name. She walked in like she owned the place, treating us like we were beneath her.
As I began my shift, I tried to put her out of my mind. I needed this job. It wasn’t just about me—it was about my family. My mom’s medical bills were piling up, and my younger sister was counting on me to help with college expenses. Quitting wasn’t an option.
A few minutes later, Ally leaned in close. “Heads up,” she whispered. “Miss Pompous just pulled into the parking lot.”
My stomach dropped. “Great,” I muttered. “Just what I needed to start my day.”
The bell above the door chimed, and in she walked, her designer heels clicking like a countdown to disaster. Without even acknowledging me, she strutted up to the counter and barked her order.
“Carrot juice. Now.”
I forced a smile. “Of course, ma’am. Coming right up.”
As I worked, I could feel her eyes on me, scrutinizing my every move. My hands began to shake under the pressure. Finally, I handed her the juice.
She took one sip and her face twisted in disgust. “What is this watered-down garbage?” she screeched. Before I could react, she hurled the entire drink at my face.
The cold juice splashed across my cheeks, dripping down my chin. I stood there, stunned, as she continued to rant. “Are you trying to poison me?” she demanded.
I blinked, wiping juice from my eyes. “It’s the same recipe we always use,” I stammered.
“Make it again,” she snapped. “And this time, use your brain.”
My face burned with humiliation as everyone in the store turned to watch. Tears threatened to spill, but I refused to let her see me cry.
Just then, my manager, Mr. Weatherbee, appeared. “Is there a problem here?” he asked, though his concern seemed more for the loss of a customer than for me.
Miss Pompous turned on him. “Your employee can’t even make a simple juice! I demand a refund and a replacement.”
To my disbelief, Mr. Weatherbee began apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. We’ll remake your juice immediately, free of charge.” Then he turned to me. “Grace, be more careful next time.”
I stood there, dumbfounded. My jaw dropped. “But sir, I—”
“Just get the carrots, Grace,” he interrupted, “and remake the juice.”
Miss Pompous smirked at me, clearly enjoying my humiliation. I felt a surge of anger. For a split second, I wanted to throw my apron down and walk out. But then I thought of my mom and sister—I couldn’t afford to lose this job.
So, I took a deep breath and made a decision. I wasn’t going to let her win.
I met Miss Pompous’s gaze, refusing to be intimidated. She thought she could buy respect with her money, that she could trample over people without consequences. Well, not this time.
As Mr. Weatherbee walked away, I reached into the fridge, bypassing the usual carrots. Instead, I grabbed the biggest, gnarliest one I could find. It was tough and unwieldy, perfect for what I had in mind.
“Just a moment,” I said, sweetly, as I fed the oversized carrot into the juicer. The machine groaned in protest before spraying juice everywhere—across the counter, the floor, and best of all, onto Miss Pompous’s designer handbag.
She shrieked, snatching her bag and frantically trying to wipe off the bright orange juice. “My bag!” she cried. “You stupid girl! Look what you’ve done!”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry, ma’am,” I said, struggling to keep a straight face. “It was an accident, I swear.”
Her face turned beet red. “You ruined my three-thousand-dollar purse! I want your manager!”
Trying not to laugh, I gestured vaguely toward the store. “I think he’s helping a customer over there.”
As she stomped off in search of Mr. Weatherbee, I ducked into the stockroom to hide my smile. From my hiding spot, I watched as she stormed out, still clutching her dripping bag, leaving a trail of carrot juice in her wake.
I thought it was over, but I knew Miss Pompous wasn’t the type to let things go.
Sure enough, the next morning, she burst into the store, demanding to see the owner. When Mr. Larson, the kind, older man who owned the store, came out, she launched into a tirade, insisting I be fired and demanding compensation for her ruined purse.
Calmly, Mr. Larson replied, “Let’s check the security footage.”
My heart skipped a beat. I had completely forgotten about the cameras.
We gathered around the monitor as the footage played, showing Miss Pompous throwing juice in my face and the “accident” with her purse. The room fell silent.
Mr. Larson turned to her. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you any compensation. What I see here is an assault on my employee. If anyone should be considering legal action, it’s us.”
Miss Pompous sputtered in disbelief. “But… my purse!”
“I suggest you leave,” Mr. Larson said firmly. “And don’t come back.”
With one final glare, Miss Pompous stormed out.
Once she was gone, Mr. Larson turned to me, his eyes twinkling. “That was just an accident, right, Grace?”
“Of course, sir,” I said with a grin. “Why would I intentionally ruin a customer’s belongings?”
He chuckled and walked away. Ally gave me a high five. “You stood up to her, Grace! You showed her who’s boss.”
That night, as I shared the story with my mom and sister, I realized something important: standing up for myself hadn’t just put Miss Pompous in her place—it reminded me of my own worth.
Have you ever had to deal with someone like Miss Pompous? Share your stories in the comments. Together, we can take on the “Karens” of the world!
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