18…or Near Enough
I started going out when I was 14/15… My love for clubbing was written in the stars. Getting ready back then was a simpler time. As 15 year-olds with no social media (aka no make-up influencers announcing how blush is in and highlight is out) and parents who grew up in the 80s with a skincare routine of washing last night’s make-up off with the family bathroom flannel… it is safe to say we walked into the unknown with our getting ready routine. When we first started clubbing, the indie rave era was in full swing, so everything from Maximo Park to The Smiths to Hadouken would be playing through our dodgily connected iPod speakers as we sat on the floor backcombing our hair and adding glitter to our eyelids. The indie sleaze get-up consisted of something neon and bright and some form of legging as we smoked a Richmond cigarette out the window. Likewise, you wore heels to the pub in order to look older - in hindsight it made us look our exact age… which was 15. It was strictly Old Skool Garage and UK Funky in the early teenies in these arse-end of nowhere pubs and the nostalgia I get from hearing DJ Luck and MC Neat is like no other. The Pete Doherty and Kate Moss agenda had influenced us before the term influencer had even been coined, and looking a little dishevelled was in. The higher the backcombed unwashed hair the closer to Amy Winehouse: ballerina flats, skinny jeans and of course a well-worn Fred Perry.