Fashion Fades

Fashion changes pretty quickly. Those flat ankle boots you got last winter now seem frumpy and safe compared to the studded heels that are all the rage now. Your trusty trapper hat has been disregarded in favour of an obscenity-emblazoned snapback (or baseball cap, if you’re as old as me) and that t-shirt bearing the name of that metal band you loved a year ago…who wants that now there’s a new Obey offering up for grabs? There are thousands of examples of trends coming and going, with some, thankfully, disappearing as quickly as they first burst onto the scene (hammertime pants, anyone?), but that’s part of the fun of it.
See, when it comes to fashion, clothes and accessories are the parts that don’t really matter all that much because they don’t have lasting implications. A massive orange puffa jacket will be welcomed into Oxfam along with your old acid-washed jean shorts and those horrible Creepers that were never a good idea.
Hairstyles get a bit more serious when the fashion tide turns. Who wants to be left with a neon-striped Mohawk when trend dictates it’s all about lengthy curls? Not to mention the hundreds of girls left cursing the day they ever deemed an undercut to be the height of sophistication. Unwanted colours and wacky styles take a bit more time and effort to bin than a trip to the local charity shop, but eventually they can be rectified and the current mop du jour can be applied to your bonce in due time.

But what about the trends that come around and leave permanent, sometimes unwanted, reminders of your wasted youth? Tattoos a-plenty is what’s en vogue these days, with everyone claiming to love body art and masses of youngsters aspiring to be tattooists. It doesn’t matter that the majority of these folk were rocking grandparent chic two months ago, before abruptly deciding they’re now the hardest of the core, and produce ‘drawings’ akin to a blindfolded primary school child. It’s like the good old days of MySpace, when every camera-phone-toting scenester proclaimed they were photographers.
Unlike those faux-tographers, the army of LA Ink-inspired wannabes are dabbling in an altogether more permanent world. Tattoos are for life, everyone knows that, so you might as well get a good one and go to an actual artist for your work, which seems to be the concept that so many people are choosing to ignore.

The Quality vs. Quantity argument is very apt in today’s fashion-driven world, with many teenagers choosing to get as much coverage from head to toe before they hit their mid-twenties. Unfortunately the vast majority of these people are going to useless tattooists and coming out with sleeves, chestpieces and throats covered in, well, shit.
Sadly with the trend of tattoos has come the attitude that more is best, regardless of how well done they are. Status has become attached to the quantity of tattoos a person has, with heavily-tattooed men being messiahs of sexiness, even if they’re covered in diabolical work, whilst guys with one or two pieces of spot-on work are overlooked simply because they aren’t covered.
Surprisingly, tattoos can make people seem irresistible, point in case Mitch Lucker. He’s not attractive and his band haven’t done anything good since 2009, yet he’s heralded as being amazing and awesome and oh-so-gorgeous because he has tattoos. The most re-blogged and followed girls on Tumblr have stacks and stacks of tattoos; Radeo Suicide has some beyond questionable pieces but she’s the poster girl for hot, sexy chicks with ink!

Too much emphasis is put on tattoos, and people are being heralded as deities for no real purpose. Non-tattooed folk aren’t worth a thing to some people, which is pretty ironic because they’re usually the ones who get whingy for being treated different for being tattooed. It works both ways. No-one is better than anybody else, tattooed or not.
The status needs to be taken away from tattoos and people need to realise that, while it seems like the most important thing in the world right now, as you grow up it becomes a lot more different in regards to peoples’ perceptions.

I often wonder if the thousands of youngsters who are dazzled by this lifestyle really understand how having tattoos can affect the day-to-day aspects of life. People will stare. Constantly. And not even try to pretend they’re not. There’ll be unfair judgement, hassle from employers, presumptions made and, to the extreme, even unwarranted physical abuse.
On the outside it’s harmless body expression, and it’s fantastic that people feel comfortable enough to be able to express themselves. But tattoos are a current trend; another bandwagon that’s becoming more and more full by the day. What happens when the people on that wagon get bored like they have done with every other trend they’ve jumped on? Is the NHS going to foot the bill for laser surgery on all the unwanted tattoos across the nation?

Benefitting Who?

(c) guardian.co.uk

Three years ago I moved from the glorious city of Leeds back to the not-at-all-glorious Catterick Garrison. I had no money, no job and no get up and go; I was suffering from severe depression, which was only fuelled by feeling like a failure and moving back into my parents’ house. My boyfriend was in tow and it soon became clear that there was a lot of unease due to living with Mum and Dad.
Brad and I went to our local Connexions centre and were told that all they could do was put us into a homeless unit because moving out was our own choice. We weren’t entitled to anything more and didn’t set out with high expectations.

We arrived at the unit on August 20th 2009. We waited in the main living space to be signed in and given a room. Within 30 seconds a tracksuited youth approached, asking if we could get him some weed; there wasn’t really much politeness in the way I said no and the disdain I felt inside was clearly legible on my face. What had we fallen in to?
It was a relief to be given a room in a different building with only a few other people, all of whom had found themselves homeless through no fault of their own. One man, Karl, was an ex-fireman and a vicious divorce had seen his wife leave him with nothing. He was funny, friendly and a well-functioning human – thank God we weren’t the only ones!
During our time in the unit we applied for a Council house and were flatly refused because Brad had no local ties. What they meant to say is we worked, didn’t do drugs and I hadn’t popped out babies to 48,129 different men. Because those are the kinds of people who get help and we didn’t fit any of that criteria.

Fast-forward to now and we still work, still don’t do drugs and still haven’t been impregnated by any drunken squaddies on terrible nights out. And we’re still entitled to nothing, even now Brad is seen as being a ‘local’. In November 2009 we managed to secure a place to live of our own; it’s a small studio flat which is essentially a shoebox with an oven. We pay for everything, keep it running and have a little space in the world that’s just for us.
Unfortunately depression is still a massive factor in my life, so much so that my doctor has advised we find somewhere new to live; a house with separate rooms and actual space. He’s written three letters to the Council detailing the need to move, but it’s proven to be fruitless. Clearly medical professionals have no sway in the eyes of Richmondshire Council but keeping the drugged up wasters and dole-claiming single mothers happy is a top priority.

The sad thing is that it’s the same up and down England. Just because thousands of people like us can afford to keep a roof over our heads, does that mean not a little bit of help can be given? In the grand scheme of things Brad and I are some of the lucky ones because we have little bits of money left to do as we please each month. Sure it’s tight, but it could be a lot worse.
It seems the Government presume that because a person goes to work they can cope and manage because they have a job. It’d be a lot easier to cope and manage without having to pay increasing tax, worry about fuel costs and face increased pricing on everything from bread to electricity.

There’s an endless amount of people who have no intention of working, yet get given ‘Jobseekers’ Allowance; people have children purely to get a house that they won’t pay for, instead claiming Housing Benefit which also cancels out Council Tax.
It’s a pretty cushy life for those lazy enough and selfish enough not to get jobs , but why are these people allowed to do so? More importantly, how do they keep getting money from a system which is supposedly there to help people?

Who are these benefits actually benefitting?

Tattoos As Self-Harm



By Danny Derrick

Reading a back issue of Skin Deep I came across an article that brought up the idea of tattooing being akin to self-harm. I got thinking and had to question whether the two could really be linked.
First of all, are there any similarities between them?
Both mark your body and are done through choice. But that’s it. In my mind nothing else draws a parallel between getting a tattoo and choosing to harm yourself.

When it comes to self-harm it is usually an act of release and a way of regaining power when everything seems out of control. There isn’t a ‘one-trigger-fits-all’ situation that can cause the feelings of helplessness, much less one universal reason for the situation to present itself.
Perhaps most importantly are the circumstances in which self-harming occurs. It’s no secret that society’s view on the subject is seriously skewed, which explains the highly clandestine manner in which sufferers go about things. It’s a sorry state that even now there is still such ignorance about psychological problems and the ways in which people deal with them. If more help and understanding was commonly known of, the chances are more sufferers would come forward and ask for the help that they deserve.

The main argument against the idea of tattoos being classed as self-harm is the control element. If the only shred of power in your life is to wound your own body, would you hand it over to a stranger? Would you allow them to inflict the pain you’ve come to rely on? Something that is so personal and therapeutic wouldn’t be relinquished just for a tattoo.
The power given to tattooists is huge; giving someone the opportunity to mark your body for life is something that requires so much trust and is fully governed by the artist. To cover yourself in tattoos is one thing, to suffer at the altar of self-harm is quite another, and it’s increasingly obvious that the two have no correlation whatsoever.

Tattoos are so common now that it’s rare to find a person without one. Does that mean the majority of the population self-harm? Well, no. It’s easy for psychologists to pop in their ideas by claiming there’s a link, but they probably have every Marilyn Manson fan down as a murderer and every football fan as a prowling, yobbish thug.
The point is, there’s no link between the two and claims of this nature are completely preposterous, not to mention potentially damaging and dangerous. Of course there will be self-harmers who get tattoos, but they aren’t doing so as an act of causing further injury to themselves. It’s the same for people with no desire to self-harm – they wouldn’t suddenly feel the need to inflict pain after getting tattooed.

I have tattoos because I adore how they look and I enjoy the culture surrounding tattooing in regards to travelling to get work done, creating new friendships and making great memories – not to mention being adorned in some beautiful art work. On the opposite side, I used to self-harm. It began when I was 14 and lasted until I was 19, with a relapse of around 8 months just before I was 21.
As a person who can speak about both subjects from personal experience I feel that the concept of tagging tattoos as self-harm is ludicrous. I want to show off my tattoos, talk about them, admire them and get more of them, whereas with harming myself I wanted nothing more than to keep it to myself for fear of being branded crazy or worse. There’s also a deep-rooted shame that I had to resort to those actions, whereas the only shame I’d feel with a tattoo is if I was stupid enough to go to a manky home scratcher and come away with a turd-butterfly and a side of AIDS.

Happily that’s not going to happen, and even happier is the thought of having those dark days behind me. Nowadays I look forward to the buzz of the tattoo machine and seeing finished pieces that are made with mountains of skill and effort.
That sounds like the complete opposite of harmful to me.

Life Therapy?

(c) telegraph.co.uk

You know those days where you feel like crap? The ones where everything from your hair to your cooking is going wrong, your top somehow doesn’t match your new skirt and you can’t help but wonder ‘What if…?’ about your job, ex and everything in between. Oh yes, you know those days.
Well ladies, you don’t have to suffer any longer, I have the answer. He’s the early morning saviour of the unemployed, steely-faced as he wades through lie detector results and DNA tests galore; he’s dealt with thieves, underage pregnancies and more love triangles than the average Premier League footballer. Of course he is Jeremy Kyle.
I am fully urging you to tune into La Kyle if you’re ever in need of a pick-me-up when life isn’t quite what you hoped it would be, for Jezza truly is the perfect antidote to My Life Is Crap Syndrome…

· Area 1: Man Troubles
There’s nothing that gets you down quite like the behaviour of men. Single or taken, serious or having fun, the dilemmas are never far away. ‘Does he like me as much as I like him?’, ‘Why can’t he help around the house more?’, ‘Will he label me a slut if I sleep with him before Date Three?’
You may never get any answers to these questions and they’ll stay burrowed in your brain until the whole into him/help/slut situation is all you can think of. They might seem like impossible-to-deal-with niggles, but here comes Jeremy Kyle to blow your man woes out of the water!
The ante has been upped; lies, cheating, threesomes, meddling families…somehow your male-related problems seem as important as what to choose for tea, leaving you to sit there smugly thinking ‘Well at least MY boyfriend isn’t a potential father to his best friend’s cousin’s sister’s ex-boyfriend’s babysitter. And at least he didn’t meet her on Facebook.’
Enjoy Date Three.

· Area 2: Appearance Insecurities
If the dodgy male behaviour isn’t enough to perk you up in the ‘my life’s better than yours’ stakes, the female guests could well be the answer to your problems.
Fresh on the Kyle Catwalk are all the latest council estate looks, from tracksuit bottoms teamed with grubby vest tops, to too-small jeans and ‘quirky’ t-shirts from Select circa 1999, not forgetting that there’s usually enough cheap gold jewellery on display to show exactly why Argos is still in business.
Team all this gorgeousness with the very best Croydon facelifts and squiggly scratcher tattoos, and suddenly your uncertainties about trousers or a skirt are proven completely unfounded.
But that’s not all. If your hair is misbehaving, simply be thankful for the following: at least it’s not ginger-dyed-black with a good three inches of roots growing through. Greasy roots. With visible dandruff. Proudly displayed on national TV.

· Area 3: Annoying Friends
Let’s face it, we all have them. The ‘why won’t he call me back?’ girl, the ‘guess what I heard today…’ girl or the ‘I’m so fat’ size 6 girl.
You give your shoulders for tears and ears for comfort and sometimes you just can’t help wishing you hadn’t bothered. Sometimes the problems of friends get on your wick, which is perfectly normal, they were probably looking for the nearest exit when you dissected your latest break-up for the hundredth time.
Stop right there though! After an hour with Jeremy you’ll be begging your bestie for some mindless gossip and dying for her to complain about faux-fatness simply to tell her how fabulous she actually is.
Look at it this way: has she ever tried it on with your man?  Has she ever tried to implicate you in any dodgy dealings? Has she ever stolen money off you and used it to pay for drugs? No, no, no. Most importantly, though, has she ever allowed you to go on national TV dressed like a long-lost relative of Worzel Gummidge? HELL no. And she never would. She’d never do any of those things, which is something you’ll be eternally grateful for after hearing of the double-crossing shenanigans of Jezza’s finest.

· Area 4: Career Doubts
As a fresh-face 18-year-old you headed off to university with every intention of becoming the best lawyer in the country. By the first set of holidays the doubt crept in, your liver was functioning at 30% and the majority of the previous three months was a fancy dress-filled blur.
Come the first set of Easter holidays uni life is a distant memory and, four years later, you’re in the same job you had to get when you moved back to your parents’ house. So your life’s not gone exactly according to plan, but there’s no need to feel bad about it.
The tracksuited, lie detecting brigade are on hand to make your dowdy 9-5 feel like a high-flying power career that’d impress Alan Sugar. You may well ask why, and the answer is the surprisingly simple: at least you have a job. It may not be what you set out to do, but you can feel happy in the knowledge that you’re a contributing member of society.
All too often the guests on Mr. Kyle’s programme are jobless layabouts, happily claiming benefits with no intentions of looking for work to provide for the uncountable number of unplanned children they’ve brought into the world. And they’re unashamedly happy about this set-up. This instantly gives you the moral high ground and the feeling of smugdom you deserve for being a worthy member of the United Kingdom.

So there are four key areas for you to stop stressing about. The next time you’re having one of those days just sit back, pop the telly on and indulge in some Jeremy therapy.
Your life will never have seemed so perfect.