Saturday, 23 October 2010

Do You Really Know That I Can't,

that I can't afford you. (Zola Jesus, she's awesome.)

We are now amidst the depths of Autumn, and I can tell because the days are colder and the nights are longer. Over the past week, I have been bundled up in layers of knitwear as the tiny art shop where I work is housed inside a very old building, which is freezing. I have brought my (fake) fur coat out of storage and have been stocking up on thermal tights.

This time of year stirs nostalgia; it's the smokey smells and drinking lots of locally brewed cider and glasses of red wine to fend off the cold on chilly nights; and going for walks for the soul purpose of getting rosy cheeks. The night air may be piercingly cold, but it doesn't stop us from wrapping up and getting cosy in pubs.

I am taking inspiration from 'toast' catalogues, a continuing theme from last Autumn. This requires red lips, dark eye-shadow and hearty knitwear. I can only assume wholesome appearances of these women are contradicted by filthy underwear (not in a literal sense.) Very few would ever guess such a thing.

All the pictures are from Toast.

Friday, 8 October 2010

Things go together better than others.

Like manic depression and hyper sexuality.

Some big news took place this week. The club I have been attending since the baby like age of eighteen, is closing down.
To the naked eye, a run-down hovel. To the seasoned youths of Luton, a glittering path to vodka shots, lots and lots of beer and cider; where there's music and dancing til the early hours, seedy happenings and many memories which are best left in the unearthed file entitled 'what happens in the edge, stays in the edge.'

It can be summed up with empty bottles, swelling hearts, lightweight feet and troubled minds. For most, it is the scene of many crazy choices, inane and pretentious ramblings and the most fun in the whole world. A place for reckless and youthful behaviour only, I will be visiting for the last time tonight and I will be toasting to very good friends and memories and to being twenty one. Not Eighteen.