And just like that, I’m catapulted back in time, back into the mid-nineties. Social media means phoning your friends to talk about films, clubbing is still the preferred choice of our weekends, and we can handle drinking culture and the occasional pill or spliff.
Pulp, Bjork and Husker Du ring out on the dancefloor. It’s not fear and loathing here, it’s beer and nose rings. We wear our clothes dark, but our scabrous sense of humour lightens the load. Uncertainty is the energy, along with a possibly misguided sense of optimism.
Nobody is preening in selfies, we’re the last generation to get sweaty as we jump up and down in mosh pits.Influencer means drug pusher these days. Sure, we look glorious, but we don’t give a shit when our eyeliner runs. There’s a tribalism in our chosen families. We bond over our esoteric passions. We are rmessy, complex and recent graduates from childhood. We’re young, frozen in a brief Polaroid, faded by time.
Hit The North 