We'll do mens fashion another time - for the moment I want to rage about the fashion for women in Bristol to dress like a cross between
Tank Girl and some sort of post-knowing, wealthy
Earth Mother who you wouldn't want to meet on a dark night. Or in fact anywhere, ever.
It all adds up to something a bit like
this picture taken at a local Bristol club night. As you can see, if you want to top off the, er, 'dready-ethno-new-age-barefoot-urban-warrior' look really nicely, add some fucking FAIRY WINGS. The resulting 'style statement' - presumably far from that intended - says Conventional, Juvenile, Deeply Tiresome. And very 90's.
I am sorry to say these benighted individuals, these sartorial miscreants, have no sense of irony or style and I can personally attest to their lack of a sense of humour. They also listen to the kind of music which makes me, as a music lover, want to cut my ears off.
I have therefore not-that-reluctantly come to the conclusion that enforced haircuts for all white people - men or women - with dreadlocks is the only way forward. Especially those with any kind of object woven in to the dread (I've seen ring-pulls).
There is of course another option available in terms of adopting the Bristol 'style' - it's a more, ahem,
demotic kind of fashion favoured by a social grouping who are most iconically representative of Bristol - more so than the middle-class rainbow nazi types anyway. These descendants of the former inhabitants of central urban areas like St. Judes who were pushed out to the marginal estates (Southmead, Hartcliffe, Knowle) around two generations ago and who now go around dressed in what you might term
ULTRA-CHAV are at least providing some sort of antidote to the flamenco-dress wearing idiots who like to think having a dog, a can and a K habit gives you a personality.
