Once upon a time, many years ago, when the unicorns still roamed the forests and David Cameron's face was even smoother and pinker than it is now, I was a hip young person. And as a hip young person, I went out dancing almost every night.
Now, unfortunately for me, I was a hip young person in the 1990s, which means that whilst I may have thought I was sultry, enigmatic and alluring (I'm fairly sure I DID think I was all of these), I was actually just a misguided soul wearing one or more of the following items:
1. Leggings. The widespread popularity of these items in the 1990s is still something of a mystery to me. Yes, they were comfy, but I am very tall and was a size 8 for much of the 90s, and they STILL looked bad. Admittedly, I would not have helped myself by choosing to accessorise green leggings with ox-blood Doc Martens and an over-sized shirt, but really someone should have taken me in hand. I have seen photographic evidence that suggests I spent most of my youth looking like a frog with big shoes on.
2. Bodies. These were basically skin-tight leotards that did up at the bottom with poppers; poppers which, I might add, were hard enough to do up in the comfort of one's own room whilst completely sober. Transfer the item and the person, now full of beer purchased at 99p a pint, to one of the toilets in Squirrels nightclub anytime after 10pm and an age-old question can finally be answered: girls go to the toilet together so that one may help the other with her fastenings.
3. Slogan t-shirts. I still find it hard to picture a particular friend in anything other than his "Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine" t-shirt; I believe there came a point when we suspected it was surgically attached to his body. Likewise, a dear female friend will forever be linked with her Suede t-shirt; my favourite, for some reason, had a large yellow duck uttering "quack" on it - perhaps I thought it looked nice with the green leggings. (It didn't.)
So anyway, the point of all this is that whilst I am beyond excitement that tomorrow night is Bop Local at The Albert Club in West Didsbury, I am at a loss what to wear. It appears fashion may have moved on a little since I last hogged a podium and waved my arms wildly to the Urban Cookie Collective, and frankly these days I am too fond of cake to qualify as a person who looks good in leggings. As the DJ at the Bop is Mike Joyce of The Smiths, I did briefly consider sporting an old "Meat is Murder" t-shirt as a tribute, but then I remembered that it's not 1989 anymore and that it's many moons since I fell off the vegetarian wagon, lured back by the salty charms of a bacon butty.
Any help on this sartorial conundrum will be gratefully received. Last time I went to a Bop it was at Jabez Clegg and quite possibly in the last millenium; I won't even speak of the fashion disasters I would have innocently exhibited at the weekly Owen's Park Bop (do they still have those?), but it's clear that I can't be trusted to make my own choices on this matter. Although, to be fair, last time I went to a Bop I'm fairly sure that I wouldn't have said anything along the lines of, "brilliant - looking at the start time I'm fairly sure we'll get to see all of Strictly before we go." Maybe I'm just too old to go at all...
- Bop Local will be at The Albert Club in West Didsbury tomorrow night; I think all tickets are now gone, so you might just have to make do with laughing at the thought of my outfit rather than actually seeing it.