This time last year, at the tender age of 43, I admitted to some friends that I kissed a 60-year-old man. My friends, still in their 40s, had interesting responses. One of them sneered at me, but the other was curious. "What was it like?" he asked. "It was fantastic," I said. I've known a lot of men in my life, but I've seldom been treated so well.
Step into any chain store and you can pick up a pre-distressed biker jacket, creepers and your favourite band shirt. Now maybe I'm cynical but I just don't buy it. It seems few people have any perception of what it means to be truly alternative, and instead of standing out, the result of their efforts is that they are simply fitting in. I can only hope that somewhere there is a positive and genuine youth uprising waiting to happen.