Individual style from the Isle of Wight
Too young to be a proper punk …. but after school my friend Carol and I trundled up the Central Line heading for the Marquee Club … where I am sure we saw lots of famous punk bands but always had to leave early to trundle back suburbward.
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Spring and autumn are my favourite seasons. A scorching summer day brings me out in freckles, or maybe some painful sunburn if I’m particularly lax about larding on the Factor Anorak. Winter is better, but I prefer mild and wet rather than those icy cold days.
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Like smoking itself, cigarette pants ain’t going anywhere. These tailored skinny strides have been flattering women’s pins since the day Audrey Hepburn grabbed a be-bowed Yorkie and hopped astride a Schwinn bicycle.
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As any resident of Ryde will not have failed to notice, each August Bank Holiday the Georgian town is invaded by scooterists. Back in the day, the town’s elders tutted and shook their heads at the supposed chaos these two-wheeled retronauts caused. These days the business association, hotels and restaurants welcome the visitors with open arms – and quite rightly too.
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While the rest of the country knocks itself out with hatred towards immigrants, vitriol against ‘benefit scroungers’ and apportions rain blame to homosexuals in legal relationships, the Isle of Wight is (hopefully) a place of sunshine and acceptance.
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Someone once told the curator of Wight Catwalk that she always wore the sort of loud patterns which wouldn’t go amiss on a clown.
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The world of nails has made some significant advances since the early days of a quick shape with a metal file finished with a clear top coat. In fact, to the uninitiated, it can be a confusing minefield, more easily interpreted by an industrial chemist.
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