My early fashionista years…

Whenever I had anything and saw a fellow being suffering, I was more anxious to relieve him than to benefit myself. And this is one of the true secrets of my being a poor man to this day”

Davy Crockett

For as long as I remember I was into style. 

One of my earliest memories of caring about my appearance would be of going to a hairdresser with my little brother hoping to get the haircut sported by John Travolta in Grease, whose photo was displayed outside the window. Not sure why but he never gave us that haircut, may be advised not to behind the scenes by our mum. We must have been 8 or 9. And this discontent with the service received might explain why I have not been to a hairdresser since I was about 15, after realising that it was not rocket sience and that by cutting my own hair I had full control over the final styling.
Film must have been influential for me in those days, as I remember being a big Flash Gordon fan, and seeing a photo of Freddie Mercury wearing the same t-shirt as the blond haired hero, we asked our mother to sew us the “Flash” red letters on a white t-shirt. We thought we were so cool.

Soon later I started adorning my – still ugly – clothes with badges and patches of hard rock bands, Kiss in particular, AC/DC too, and later Iron Maiden. That makeshift style was not to last, quickly supplanted by the fascinating Punk look, which I adopted best I could without ever unfortunately managing to get a bona fide Mohawk. I was 12. 

Then at 13, Nick Knight’s book (yes THAT Nick Knight!) “Skinhead” and the skin bands of the early 80’s would change everything for me, and in retrospect not for the better. Dressed as skin in the suburbs of Paris when you’re a non-violent tiny wee lad was a hard life indeed. Not a day without some form of threats, attack, chase…this was not for me. However my attachment to the look, the silhouette, the details…came from that era.

However like it happens in the field of archeology, a recent find sheds some light to an even more archaic period. We found a Davy Crockett jacket made by my Mum when we were kids, and I now remember wearing it back then, complete with a Canadian trapper hat with mock beaver tail at the back. How could I not end up being a Dsquared2 fan with this in my genes?

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