(This is a post from my old Piczo blog (Saturday 12th November 2009). Perhaps it's just my tendency towards nostalgia, but I wanted to move it over here.)
Last week on Tuesday, I stumbled in from the previous night's party at about midday. I had just about enough time to clean up, get some eats, and take a quick nap before I was expected to be on my feet again for a trip with my Dear Old Dad to St Giles' Fair in Oxford.
For those of you who don't know, St Giles' Fair is just that - a fair a mile and a half long which covers two major streets in the city of Oxford. My Dad was brought up in Oxford, so he likes to go there. I hadn't been for a few years, so, despite my overwhelming grogginess, I was looking forward to it.
I decided not to dress up too much, as it's not easy to go on rides in poofy skirts and New Rocks, so I just pulled on my fave black jeans, a black 'Witches are Sexy' T-shirt, a Slipknot hoodie that used to belong to my boyfriend (yes, I like Slipknot, and yes, I am well aware they are NOT Goth) and my knee-high Underground baseball boots. Casual and comfy.
I'll spare you the details of the hour-and-a-half journey from my hometown, and skip straight to telling you that by the time we got there, boy did I feel underdressed. We got off the Park & Ride right next to a fantastic alt clothing shop called Tiger Lily, and I almost fell through the doors. WOW. Why, oh why, did I not bring any money with me?!
But judging from the amount of Goths around - I'd seen two by the time we'd even reached the fair, which by the standards of my hometown where you might only see two alternatives in a whole month is pretty impressive - there must be more alternative shops there! And we're not talking Goths in casual gear, either. For example, the first I saw was dressed in a black 50s-ish tea dress edged in white lace, with a delicate white pattern that might have been floral, black and white striped tights, and huge boots which I believe were from Demonia. (This outfit... I love.) She had long, purple-red hair. Dad looked round at me and said, "There's so many Goths here, you must feel right at home..."
And then we reached the fair. It was excellent. The rides were sky-high... but so were the prices. We only went on two or three rides in the end... But hey, this blog is about all things Goth-related, not how extremely well my hangover coped with being hurled around in all different directions on the Twister.
You know I was saying earlier that poofy skirts and huge boots don't go so well with going on rides? Well, that didn't seem to be deterring most of Oxford's Goth population. I also spotted a couple of trad goths - deathhawks and leather jackets - and rather a lot of tall cybergoths with model-esque figures. Clothing ranged from long, swirling, velvet trenchcoats to short white rubber skirts. One thing I noticed was that nobody gave them any bother... why is it that places all around the country except where I actually live seem to be so tolerant?
Ooh, and points for bravery to the fetish Goth I spotted in PVC boots, skirt and corset, and spiked collar.
When I actually have money, I'll be considering moving to Oxford. (Places I've got under consideration: Whitby - if I win the lottery or something - Camden, and now Oxford.) The people were interesting, the atmosphere was lively, and no one was afraid to dress up. Just how I like it!
Listening to: 4 O'Clock - Emilie Autumn