Shoulder Padded Turtle Necks

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I’ll Try Anything Once – Julian Casablancas

Confession time: For far too long a period growing up I used to wear turtlenecks. As in, all the time. Pre denim jacket phase. Post oversized sports jacket. Turtlenecks were my item of choice. Anywhere. Everywhere. All the time. Must’ve thought I was French. Or Sean Connery. Not sure if they were actually in fashion according to the herd, but I assume I thought they were the greatest thing of all time. Every significant memory I have from the ages 15-18 involve me wearing a turtleneck. Maybe even push that up to 20. Clearly remember my first turtleneck. Saw it in a wardrobe at home one day. Wondered who owned it. Looks like my kind of top. Looks kind of cool. Let’s see what it looks like on… Oh Betsy! My distorted image of myself in the mirror telling me I was looking good! Very cool! Mum? Muuuuuuuuuummmmmmm! MMMMUUUUUUUMMMM!!!! MUMM!? Mum? Mum?!! MUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM… Oh, hi Mum. Who owns this top? Pardon? You!? Who? No way! Can I have it? Pardon me? Shoulder pads? Oh yeah, wasn’t sure what they were. Pretty cool though, aren’t they!? Right? No? Guys don’t wear shoulder pads? Says who, Mum? What do they know!?! I look cool Mum, don’t I? Sure I do, Mum? Mum? MUU…

I'll Take Them All!!!

And with that, my obsession with turtle necks began. Black. Brown. Navy. Paisley. Mauve. Mustard. Cream. I’d wear them all. Gobbling up the turtlenecks so I was! Although the shoulder pads were a relatively short lived affair. I think the first time the original beast was put in the wash it came back sans le pads. Tut tut. My Mum had an ol’ snip snip I do believe. Ruining my mysterious new muscular image. Not to worry, my neck was looking cool at least. Turtles hiding my turkey. Carefully folding every neck perfectly. Just right. Sophisticated. Mysterious. Classy. Man of the people. Looking cool as funk. James Bond style. Distorted image all the way. Every and any time it came to buying new clothes, turtle and neck were the only words off my lips. Christmas clothes… Turtleneck! Wedding… Turtleneck! Disco… Turtleneck! First ever staff Christmas party… Turtleneck!!!

Big fan. Huge. Mix and match with my jeans. Black jeans. White jeans. Normal. Mix it up. Maybe go out on a limb with the cream and white combo. Perhaps keep it safe with black and denim. Either way, looking good! One Christmas I got this expensive cream one. Savage. Really good wool. Perfect neck. Good arms. Good length. Just spot on all round. Only dodgy thing was the colour. Cream. Dodgy for getting dirty. Stains attracted to it like dirty old men to a cheap whure. Not to worry though, I assured my Mum, I’ll look after it. Only wear it for special occasions. I’ll keep it safe. Clean. Classy. And I did. Just a pity that hairdresser did not. (I should probably mention now as well that for far too long a period growing up I was obsessed with putting streaks in my hair. Bleaching bits of it. Tinted. Whatever it’s called. Always used to do it. No clue why. Just did. For far too long. Short. Spiky. Tinted hair. We all have a past. Although look at it now… Thank you.)

Hi Kim. See My Stubble!? I'm A Real Boy...

Anyways, it was time to get my hair tinted again. Christmas nights out coming up! Time to look good. Haircut on. Down to the hairdressers I go. Down to the hairdresser I thought was pretty hot. Comparing her to someone now, with my distorted eyes, she looked like Kim Kardashian. An Irish version of Kim Kardashian who worked in a small hairdressers in the village of Douglas. Slightly different version. I thought she was hot. (Back then. I’ve seen her since. Now she looks not like Kim Kardashian. Maybe more like her bigger, brassier sister, not sure what her name is. Jolly one? Moving on… ) Instead of just wearing any old tshirt I didn’t care about, I decided to get dressed up for this trip. Time to impress Kim! Perfect chance  to wear my new beautiful cream turtleneck for the first time. Older. Sophisticated. Bond on!

In I go. Small talk. Like my turtleneck?! No reply. Gibber dish on. Sit down. Tint me up! Towel around the shoulders. Head back. Bleach on the head. Sitting there. Staring at the ceiling. For an hour. Wondering if they can see up my nose. Ding! Hour up. Time to wash off this bleach. Trim the hair. Over to the basin. Head back. Shower head on. Roasting water. Burning the side of my head. Scalding the side of my face. Say nothing. Don’t want to put Kim out in any way! Listen in as she starts to tell another hairdresser about the date she’s going on that night. Die inside a little. Until I’m quickly brought back to life by boiling water streaming down my back. What the what!?! You’re soaking me lady! Careful!!! Jump up. Shake off. Smile. Scalded back. Have a laugh about it. No worries Kim! That was my fault somehow! Dry up. Sit down to get my haircut. Just a bit of water. Hahhaheeha. No worries. Who needs a back these days!? All good again. Until…

Oh You Ape...

I see her face in the mirror. What? Tell me. What’s wrong with the back of my head? Is it weird… Something else? Why do you look horrified? Oh dear Jesus no?! Please don’t tell me… Say no… Not my… Turtle?! Ruined! Kim had washed the bleach all down my beautiful new stylish classy turtleneck.. Instantly developed a streak of orange. Not a small streak. An all of my top is now ruined kind of streak. What. A. Dose. Not much I could do after that. Besides get a crap haircut on top of it. Tut. On the upside, Kim gave me £5 off. Which I dumbly gave back as a tip. Buy your date a pint on me later Kim! On the downside, I had to go home and show my Mum what had happened. Some. Dose. Beautiful cream was ruined. Soured. Destroyed. Gutted. Thankfully, my mighty Mum helped with my sad loss. Tried to bleach it all. Nay joy. Last resort: Dye it black. Giddy up! Back dancing! Ish. Black is the cooler colour. So even though I did look really cool in my stylish cream turtleneck, at least I looked even cooler in my hipster black one. Mighty Mum!

Now. I assume you’re wondering what is the point of all this gibberish? Is it that I used to wear my Mum’s clothes? Tut. Nay. Isolated incident. Is it that a few years later the roles would be reversed and it would be Kim who was trying to seduce at a party one night? Would that be the point!?! Nay. That’s a different tale to be told. Point of this story is that, believe it or not, I used to be clueless. Took me a while to realise that turtlenecks might not be the fashion way of the future. Which is why I moved on. On to my next obsession: Trucker hats and Von Dutch! We all have a past! Wrapping up. Quite clearly: I can be clueless. Need to learn things. Takes time to figure things out. Which is why lately I’ve been reading and studying a bucket. Scripts and writing and formatting and the likes. Improve on. And. All. That. Hence the quiet front storywise on le blogaruu. Just in case you were wondering/having withdrawals/emailing. Ahem. Ok. Thank you!! The End.

Lady Luck – Jamie Woon

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