"I try and laugh about it,
Hiding the tears in my eyes."
The Eighties
in one image. Well, my Eighties. I can’t speak for the striking coal miners or
those that fought in the Falklands War. I’m thinking they’d probably choose
something less frivolous.
My Sixth Form
days would begin and end with this poster of Robert Smith hanging over my bed.
My black school folders had this silhouette drawn on them in silver pen. My
friend Toni had a Boys Don’t Cry T-shirt she wore one summer day we were
walking her dogs over the fuel allotments. It was on badges I found in
Kensington Market and postcards bought on the Isle of Wight. I’m surprised I
didn’t get it as a tattoo. (Well, not that surprised, actually.)
And, of course,
I’d painstakingly copy that look. Plumes of distressed hair, over-sized suit
jackets, high-tops with multiple sets of laces, and a guitar slung nonchalantly over my shoulder (the guitar was one fashion accessory too far, to be honest - especially when out shopping or visiting the dentist). It would be a long time
until another sleeve had that impact on me again. Probably ‘Life Is A Rollercoaster’
by Ronan Keating. Ho ho ho.
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