I've done some terrible things to myself over the years. Take for example the time that I plastered my hair with blue boot polish so that it matched my electric blue PVC trousers for the last Flesh night at the Hacienda. If anybody had have lit up near me I'd've been a gonna. What's worse is that this isn't the only time that I boot polished my hair. Other crimes to my bonse include dying it black - again this has happened a few times. Why I didn't learn the first time when my boss told me that I looked like Marc Almond I don't know. It has been bleached a couple of times too - once successfully, once not...
It has been long and short, cut professionally, hacked with a pair of scissors and even plaited over night in tiny little braids so that it was wavy the next day (this was a very very long time ago...)
Besides my hair there have been other faux pas. I have been pierced - once in my nose at the corn exchange in Manchester, once in the nipple at the ink pot tattoo studio in Oldham (who incidentally allowed me to be tattooed when drunk with the world's worst tattoo) once in my upper ear at a back street hairdressers in Blackpool and when that reacted badly and blistered my ear I removed it - with scissors and a pair of pliers - waited for it to heal then did it all over again at a chemist in Lanzarote. I sound a bit rough don't I? I'm not I can assure you... The last time I was pierced was in my ear lobe. God knows what possessed me to do that at the age of 31 but there I was - Chelmsford town centre on a busy Saturday afternoon, sitting on a high stool in the window at Claire's Accessories whilst Chantelle, who was wearing deeley boppers or bunny ears - I forget - put holes in my ears. Come to think of it... it wasn't long after this that I last dyed my hair black - another mistake.
Fashion-wise I have already mentioned the blue PVC trousers (can you imagine? Jesus Christ what was I thinking?) but beyond there I can reveal such beauties as the leopard print jacket, the odd socks - one luminous yellow and one luminous pink - the beautiful black and white trousers which looked like television interference which I wore with plastic, slip on shoes and of course my staple of the 1990's night club - the tartan trousers. Three pairs.
As far as footwear goes there have been some gems. The Frankenstein boots which I bought in Ibiza, the replacements which I bought in Manchester after leaving the originals at a friend's house in Cardiff. There were the burgundy patent leather loafers, the blue spoon shoes, the red nubuck leather rockabilly shoes and the blue suede boots. I am truly a style icon.
Before I finish, I hasten to add that this is not the end... Besides the glow in the dark liquid which I used to paint patterns on my face with and the sweetie necklaces that I would wear whilst clubbing there have been ever more weird and wonderful accessories and I'm sure that there will be more in the years to come.
It has been long and short, cut professionally, hacked with a pair of scissors and even plaited over night in tiny little braids so that it was wavy the next day (this was a very very long time ago...)
Besides my hair there have been other faux pas. I have been pierced - once in my nose at the corn exchange in Manchester, once in the nipple at the ink pot tattoo studio in Oldham (who incidentally allowed me to be tattooed when drunk with the world's worst tattoo) once in my upper ear at a back street hairdressers in Blackpool and when that reacted badly and blistered my ear I removed it - with scissors and a pair of pliers - waited for it to heal then did it all over again at a chemist in Lanzarote. I sound a bit rough don't I? I'm not I can assure you... The last time I was pierced was in my ear lobe. God knows what possessed me to do that at the age of 31 but there I was - Chelmsford town centre on a busy Saturday afternoon, sitting on a high stool in the window at Claire's Accessories whilst Chantelle, who was wearing deeley boppers or bunny ears - I forget - put holes in my ears. Come to think of it... it wasn't long after this that I last dyed my hair black - another mistake.
Fashion-wise I have already mentioned the blue PVC trousers (can you imagine? Jesus Christ what was I thinking?) but beyond there I can reveal such beauties as the leopard print jacket, the odd socks - one luminous yellow and one luminous pink - the beautiful black and white trousers which looked like television interference which I wore with plastic, slip on shoes and of course my staple of the 1990's night club - the tartan trousers. Three pairs.
As far as footwear goes there have been some gems. The Frankenstein boots which I bought in Ibiza, the replacements which I bought in Manchester after leaving the originals at a friend's house in Cardiff. There were the burgundy patent leather loafers, the blue spoon shoes, the red nubuck leather rockabilly shoes and the blue suede boots. I am truly a style icon.
Before I finish, I hasten to add that this is not the end... Besides the glow in the dark liquid which I used to paint patterns on my face with and the sweetie necklaces that I would wear whilst clubbing there have been ever more weird and wonderful accessories and I'm sure that there will be more in the years to come.
PS Oh oh oh oh! I just remembered whilst reading this back - the necklace with letters on it which read the legend SLUT. That was dead classy. Enough now...
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