If you ever want to get extra attention when you go out, dress up.
There’s a permissive line in our social customs that I wish somehow — sometimes — could be expressed, like a token gesture, without the wardrobe distractions. Somewhere on the spectrum between monologuing schizophrenia and boisterous extroversion. A permission to have conversations with strangers.
If you ever want to be found, dress as Waldo.