from a bitter girl in london, street peeper punk

July 7, 2010
I’m a born and bred Londoner, and it would be fair to say that London has become the half-shaven hairstyle hub. Model Alice Dellal was the first woman I saw who rocked the half shaved head with attitude, while still looking pretty hot. Unfortunately, miss hard, Good Girl Gone Bad silver body painted, Rihanna, lopped hers off a while later, and started a razor revolution. Women all over London have become scissor happy.

From a bitter girl in London, Street Peeper Punk
Words Alishia Dickenson

(Photo from Swagger Paris)

I’m not naive enough to think that one person whose whole image is styled down to the every last inch of her head, has copyright rights to a hairstyle, but there is no denying that she had a lot of influence. The hairstyle itself has been around forever, but not in a mainstream sense. The hairstyle is hot, especially when rocked with attitude and a battered pair of converse low tops, but like everything that is pop culture, it’s become over saturated, over exposed and has now as expected become generic and oh so boring. I have now seen enough scalps to last me a lifetime.
The iconic Carnaby Street is a like a little isolated world within itself. Located just behind Oxford Street; it caters to those who seek some distinction from the norm in their looks, a sprinkle of edge over a buffet of normalcy. The uniform here comes under two umbrellas: the indie rocker and the Kanye hip-hopper. So here what you’ll find is a hybrid of plaid shirts, Nike dunks, American apparel and Marlborough lights.
Generic high street chains now sell bejewelled rage against the machine and AC/DC band tees, alongside gingham summer dresses and Birkenstocks. Edge is accessible to all.
Funny enough, the girls that used to label me a coconut, bounty and all the unimaginative phrases that depict me as racially confused, now look at me in awe rather than anger. Getting my tragus pierced many many moons ago at the time was deemed by others as ludicrous and simply ugly. But now that pop starlets such as Rihanna and Cassie sport one, it’s the best thing since sliced bread.
(Thanks Cassie)
Ask these clones what AC/DC stands for at they stare at you as if you’re a dyslexic trying to recite the alphabet.

I probably sound rather bitter at this point, maybe I am. Most Londoners are bitter and miserable about something or another. Parking tickets, the over abundance of reality television, the tube. . .the list is endless. I guess this particular gripe stems from a time in secondary school (high school). A time when these newly self declared edgy folk would beat you with a baton (not literally, but the idea isn’t too far fetched) if you spoke an ill word about B2K, or any of the other over-glossed pre-pubescent boy bands of the time. There are certain absolutes in life: the sky is blue, you’ll get old and kids are cruel. To be fair I didn’t help myself, in my mind I sought to be as un-stereotypical as possible. But I wasn’t following any particular trend, I was just drawn to things which I liked. Simple. It’s just that the things I was drawn too were considered odd for a young black girl. Basically I was (and am) more a lover of Brandon Boyd of Incubus rather Brandon Casey of Jagged Edge.

Not sure if the American punk scene is quite like this, but from a London girl roaming the streets, the alternative revolution is making me puke.