Remembered the worst one last night.


Take yourself back to 1982 if you can. Today, you can get away with wearing virtually anything you like, from Hippy to Goth to Punk to shell suit to business suit. Arse hanging out of your trousers, trousers round your knees – nothing really turns a head in the street these days. In 1982 things were different; there were postcards of London showing punks with Mohicans, skinhead haircuts were limited to thugs, not every businessman with a hair loss problem.

We had moved on from Punk, it had sold out. I was towed along in the fashion slip-stream of my best mate who had latched on to ‘New Romantics’: Ultravox, Kraftwerk, Marilyn, Steve Strange etc. Even Bowie was doing ‘Ashes to Ashes’. Anyway, we were off to some big New Romantic evening at some place in Town, Depeche Mode and Spandau Ballet were playing and some others I’ve wiped from my memory. Every poseur from a 100-mile radius would be descending on this venue, most would be dressed in the latest fashions from the cool shops in the King’s Road. Me, I couldn’t afford any of that crap so I set out to create my own ‘look’.

Trousers were the big problem. I only had two pairs, both 501s, one ‘smart’ pair and one which would actually be reasonably fashionable today if I still had them, as they were worn through in most places and sewn up (by me) in several others. Neither would do. Now, I didn’t want to spend much money (and didn’t have much) as I hadn’t really bought into the whole thing. I didn’t like the music and the poseurs made me retch. So, I went to the faithful Army Surplus shop, and bought…a pair of sailor’s trousers, those weird woollen, enourmous bell-bottomed ones. I got them home and tried them on, they looked shite.

Shirt: my Dad (bless him) was in the Rag Trade and had acquired a great shirt. It was dark bottle green rough silk and very baggy. I tried it with the trousers – better, but still shite. Then I had a brain wave, I’d take in the bottom of the trouser legs to create a winter-wear-for-the-hareem look. Genius, I got out the old needle and thread and got to work.

Hair: only one thing to do with my very average, no longer Punk short hair, plenty of Vaseline all over and comb it into a Rock-a-billy quiff.

Face: out with the make-up (can’t for the life of me remember where this came from). Lots of Goth like eye-liner, possible some green eye-shadow too.

Shoes: no choice, it had to be the black 10-hole DMs, I didn’t have any other footware.

Overall effect: God alone knows, but looking back through the mists of time I THINK I must have looked like Tintin with a bad hangover after sleeping in his clothes all night.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 25 Aug 2006, 10:03, Reply)