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Fashion lookbooks and youth culture 1970s-1980s

I was a nearly a teenager in 1975, ten-year-old boy that felt older than I was. My envy was those one or two classes above me at school, looked more relaxed with flares and 10 cm plateau shoes. I felt as miserable as a mum when she denied me the plateau’s as I hear her voice you’re too young for wearing and handed over a pair of brand new Vans instead. I was always in the wrong place at the right time. I was too young to be a hippie and in reality too young to be a punk. Punks, my parents hated it hell, and fitted me perfectly. Punks with their hair, pins and noisy music made those over twenty sick and hated it. However, in 1977 my hormones did the work, they knocked first mum out and then dad, they had to give in to get out and there I stood with as my first Levi 501 jeans and Dr Martens high black boots with red shoelaces.

Over the shoulder, I was wearing a beatbox larger than a Volkswagens bus. Good Save the queen streamed out of the speakers, and I knew I cool cause girls always wanted to be around me, the only thing I wanted in return was batteries as the beatbox took more energy required than my extra job could pay. So, I ordered to steal them for me or piss off.  It did not go long before the music stopped. The beatbox was soon confiscated by a louder than bombs angry headmaster. I got a letter that he said to give my parents at home. He looked stupid,  nobody except the writer read it. I could only guess “your son  is expelled for a week and ordered”.” I spit on his shiny shoes while transforming the letter into a puzzle in front of him. Left school without papers or exams never too come back. Nevertheless, when the decade was over, we felt like adults living in a suburb that got it all and very soon station-wagon, kids and a dog with mortgage challenging to pay — recommended series of post.

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