All I wanted was a bell round my neck. Everyone else had
one. The ‘everyone’ in this case referred to the groups of fashionable young
people parading the promenade. I watched them from our upstairs living-room
window, above the pub. They were older than me, but they were how I envisaged
myself in the near future. My Nan,
always fascinated by the sights that walked by, tutted and thought they sounded
like the donkeys on the beach. My Dad said they were ‘hippies’ or ‘Beatniks’
and I wasn’t going to be joining in with them. He was being boring, but he let
me have a troll doll instead and I chose one with beautiful, long orange hair.
I had her for many years. By the time I was old enough to please myself about
strolling along the prom with a cowbell round my neck, the trend had passed and
I was involved in more worthwhile activities.
In making an effort to be individual, someone’s style can be
so popular and copied to the extent that it becomes almost a uniform, like
Teddy Boys, and defines opposites, like Mods and Rockers, Skinheads and
Greasers. It is not just fashion, it’s a way of life, a culture.Hipster, none of the above and not a hippy,
but no label required, they are people of this generation.
My son has grown a full bushy beard. It looks good, even
though it covers so much of his handsome face. This must be the opposite of ‘designer
stubble’ that didn’t suit everyone and gave a look of scruffy and unshaven to
some unfortunate fashion followers. Beards seem to be more popular than ever
and the bigger, the better with young men, like medieval warriors. I can’t
imagine my husband without his goatee and my daughter’s partner suits his rich auburn
full beard, neatly trimmed. I hope it is a trend that lasts. I like it.
I’d love to feel bold enough to have color in my hair
again. I had my blonde highlights done at the weekend. It doesn’t make a lot of
difference, it’s just a touch of natural looking enhancement. A hint of a
rainbow beneath the top layers would be perfect. It could be a retirement gift
to myself, perhaps, if only that were soon. My daughter has purple hair at the
moment. It will be another color before long. She doesn’t like false nails, sweeping eyelashes
or lip fillers all of which seem popular with young ladies. She had a tiny
facial piercing as soon as she was old enough to have it done. I wish she had
wanted a cowbell for a necklace. I would have happily bought it.
I love this poem I found by Porche Freeman,
I can't hear you over the sounds of
The Shins on my iTouch.I watch your mouth move but I don't care too much.
My music sounds like an orgy of broken computers.
My thoughts are too complex for you to clutch.
I am a Hipster and these are my confessions.
Scalene triangles and vintage are my obsessions.
My hair is so messy.
My life style is formed out of homosexual repression.
I don't wear skinny jeans, they're called fitted.
I love this hat that my grandmother knitted.
I carry sticky pads and sharpeys for artistic expression.
I got a ticket for being so cool unpermitted.
My name is John, but I tell people to call me Noah.
I once fell in love with a girl named Ramona.
I listen to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs but she said No No No.
So it was over fo eva.
I carry a camera because I am indie.
My favorite band is Breakfast with Cindy.
I love freaking coffee.
Look at my ironic t- shirt, I'm so trendy.
I am a Hipster and these are my confessions.
Scalene triangles and vintage are my obsessions.
My hair is so messy.
My life style is formed out of homosexual repression. Porche Freeman
Thanks for reading, Pam x
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