As an old Mod (1980's version, I'm not that old!), I still like to look the part, wherever possible. Whilst walking through St. Paul's this morning, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a shop window and realised that, even after all these years, I haven't strayed too far from the clean, crisp modernist lines of my youth.
I have an almost Imelda Marcos - like addiction for ankle boots. In fact, I think my entire teenage years were spent be-hooved in a pair of Chelsea boots. On my heels were the obligatory Blakey's shoe protectors (eulogised so well by my good friend Danny Wilson in his "Red Tree Song") which probably meant that my footsteps could be heard in outer space. On the very rare occasion that I do wear a pair of shoes, my ankles feel like they are naked and I have repeat the policeman's mantra of "nothing to see here, move along" over and over in my head to prevent myself from running to the nearest shoe shop and buying another pair of chelsea boots.
The morning's attire was topped off with my fave vintage leather jacket (with ankle boots too, of course) and as I walked on, a young lad looked at me and said "I love the jacket, Man". Which just goes to prove that once you have "it", you never lose "it".
"We are the Mods, We are the Mods, We are, We are, We are the Mods"
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