Monday, 23 June 2014


Last time on the blog I was talking about surviving adolescence.  For me, I gained strength from being a Goth.  Question is, why?

Polly and I, gothing it up (ish)
The first time I dressed up like a Goth was at the behest of my friend Polly, who was visiting from down South, where her family had moved.  Polly was much cooler, and much more confident than me, and she'd seen an article in a magazine about the goth look.  She wanted to give it a go.  She didn't just want to give it a go though.  She wanted to get dressed up, and then catch the train to Leeds - then famous for being the home of Goth, to see if we could pass.

I was terrified, but I went along with her plan, wearing lots of dark makeup, and black clothes, dripping in jewellry.  I didn't stop being terrified the whole time we were out, but I did notice that people looked at me a different way.  They weren't really looking at me as a blandly normal girl any more, they were looking at yet another Goth.  It was good.

Later, while I covered all my mirrors and dieted, I took pleasure in dyeing everything black.  Including my hair.  The hairdresser was not sure about taking my long hair from dark blonde to blue black, but she did it anyway.  It looked shockingly dark.  My skin looked shockingly pale.  I loved it.

My Dad offered to buy me some music to go with my new look.  I'd been reading Q magazine, and thought I'd like to get something by Fields of the Nephilim.  We travelled into Leeds (in black, but with less makeup), and went to Crash Records where I found the Fields of the Nephilim album I wanted.  Dad thought I should listen to it first and so asked the man in the shop to put it on.  I was so embarrassed.  Didn't he realise that it didn't matter whether I liked it or not (and I can't remember if I did when I first listened to it, but I listened again and again, until I was a proper floury Goth (not a flowery Goth - they liked The Cure).

I started going to Goth clubs, and loved the ritual of Goth dancing.  As an added bonus, when we could make them out through the dry ice, there was a certain young man in skin tight black trousers, and a Bauhaus T shirt cut down the sides, as well as over-long braces who would dance rather beautifully, while his clothes fell off to the appreciation of his audience.

I loved watching the couple with amazing clothes who would hit the dance floor only for the songs they had practiced all week in their bedsit, striking dramatic poses, and doing occasional midair splits.  And I loved the irreverant dancing we floury Goths did, riding our horses around the dancefloor, miming the lyrics for Circle of Time (which I can't find anywhere - was it called something else?).  Mishaps like walking into the pillar in the middle of the dancefloor, or getting some jewellry caught in someone else's hair.

And the black.  I loved all that black. I'm still a big fan.  What about you?  Were you a member of some sort of tribe?  Got a photo?

Other posts you might like:

The book challenge
Words at 20/6/14 - 92,000.  
53,000 words done since the challenge began! 10,500 this month.
Where I'm at in First Draft - Chapter 20.
What I did last - A seedy scene at the party.