My initial reaction on realising its 20 years since the dawn
of Britpop was “blooming heck, where did those two decades go!”
But then I decided it was a brilliant excuse to take you back
in time on a tragical history tour of my youth.
So here we are back in the 90s ,follow me to Gillingham High
Street ,this morning we’re meeting up with my best mate Tracy who’s back from
uni in London for a couple of days . Tonight we plan to go clubbing at
Excalibur’s at the King Charles hotel because Friday is indie night Subsonic
and of course that requires some new outfits. 
No designer labels for us though we’re after the charity
shops finest Crimplene couture, granny dresses to chop into micro minis worn
with black tights and D.M’s or the finest in 60s/ 70s massive collared shirts
to compliment your favourite cords or jeans.
We’ll stop off at Richards discount store on Canterbury Street
for glittery nail polish, roll on lip-gloss and knock off copies of Dior’s Poison
and voila, you have a whole new look for just under £10 from your beaded purse.
Later we might venture into Chatham if we haven’t found our dream outfit here
and of course, don’t forget to pick up your directions hair dye from The Candy
Bar in Rochester.
That’s our glad rags sorted, so what’s
next? We now have 2 options , if Tracy
stays at mine it’ll be Hubba Bubba soda and a Cadburys Boost sitting in Wigmore
Park talking about bands and boys we like while trying not to get intimidated
by the townies who have taken offence to our plastic ( and in my case, Barbie) hair
slides and vintage sunglasses . If its sleepover time at Tracy’s though it will
be concealing alco-pops under the bellbottom of our flares so we don’t get in
trouble with her stepdad for having alcohol in the house, although to be honest
I’m think he’s far more concerned about you wearing your shoes in his home than
whether we are slightly more merry than we should be.
Fuelled by Hoopers Hooch or if
we’re feeling brave the fruit flavoured nail polish remover that is 20/20, the
night is young so where shall we go before
we hit the dance floor for a bit of indie swaying and posturing. Some nights
we’ll walk from Gillingham to Chatham to Rochester and back again, it’s no
wonder I was much fitter then than I am now.
On our walk we can take in some of the scenes
of our youthful japery, the Great Lines which we decided to take a hike across
one day in gale force winds, what later became the manor club( and home to my
mid life crisis mischief making and d.j career )putting bands on and getting
off with boys who inscribed their names into a bar of soap for you. Take a walk
up a certain street in Rochester and I can even show you the house where I had
my “do you remember the first time” experience but obviously we’ll keep that
one a secret for now to spare any blushes as that very person could possibly be
reading this!
Despite my protestations to him at
the time that he wasn’t my first i think he pretty much might have guessed it
was from my lack of skill in the bedroom area and a tendency to laugh nervously
everytime it looked like something vaguely rude was about to happen !
Tonight’s alehouse of choice is
the Hogshead in Chatham, the mirrors in the girls toilets make everyone look
ghastly but otherwise it is a lovely pub for all the misshapes , mistakes and misfits
of the town to meet up . We might also partake in a few bevvies at the Command
House or Churchill’s especially if they have any bands playing but come half 10
there’s only one place we want to be, so we’re off back towards Gillingham because now its Subsonic
time and that dance floor needs me.
We’re through the doors with no trouble, let’s
get those drinks in and find a place to people watch and strut our funky stuff.
A blue Bols and lemonade for me and a Pernod and coke for the lady then it’s wahey!
I love this track, watch me pull some awkward indie shapes to the sounds of Blur,
Suede Elastica and Pulp as well as Motown , The Kinks and The Beatles.
Ooh look ,there’s Kev the Goth i
used to go out with who wears more makeup than me ( especially black lipstick
that used to end up all over my face making me look like I’d been sucking on an
exhaust pipe ) , let’s do our silly dance to Trouble by Shampoo ,that really
used to annoy him. Out on the dance floor is Stuart, Medway’s designated Jarvis
Cocker, he’s so cool and the Adidas twins, they’re having a row about who’s the
most Britpop. Tracy used to have a bit of a thing for one of them but right now
we’re involved in a bizarre love pentagon with the bloke who will not only
steal her heart but also her debit card and
a young Mick Jagger –alike hairdresser who will lift me up in a
passionate embrace under Chatham viaduct exposing my knickers to all and sundry
. It turns out they’re both really in love with the other woman in this amour
polygon and she’s welcome to both of
them in the end.
After hours of mingling , doing interesting dance moves with skinny attractive
indie boys and holding toilet doors shut
for people you’ve never met before but now completely love , all too soon Bugs Bunny’s
voice rings out across the dance floor signalling” that’s all folks” and our night
has finally reached its conclusion. We all scramble to the cloakroom or kebab
van before grabbing a taxi or walking home with the sound of the music still
ringing in our ears planning to do it all again next week.
And as we disco down at Subsonic every Friday it’s
hard to believe that just a few short years the Britpop bubble will have burst,
possibly as it crossed the threshold of number 10 and we’ll just be bit part
players in the celebration of an anniversary come 2014.
But while Britpop may be 20 years old, for this
girl here who’s still partial to a side swept fringe in a plastic hairclip , a
nice pair of flares and retro plimsolls , there’s something about that era that
makes me smile and reminisce that i was
that age once again.
UNEDITED VERSION OF GIRL FROM THE NECK DOWN COLUMN - MEDWAY MESSENGER 21/04/14
( WITH A FEW NEW ADDED EXTRA BITS THAT I FORGOT TO PUT IN ORIGINALLY ! )
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