It’s the last day in New York and I finally splurged while out shopping and bought a pair of the new Converse Chuck Taylor II, once again putting me in danger of being either a hipster or metrosexual.
Apparently I must be a hip, man about town who takes pride in his appearance. Which is all kinds of ridiculous because I’ve never had the inclination to make enough effort to be image-proud.
Apparently this categorisation of my appearance was based on a number of factors, all of which can be easily explained as laziness.
My socks match, but this is not metrosexual…it’s just what socks should do. Socks are designed in pairs, they go together that’s why you don’t buy individual ones to mix-and-match. The fact they are colourful arises from the fact that previously I used to wear black socks that had days of the week on (and yes the right day was chosen when putting them on), and having very distinctive socks makes them easier to pair up when taking them from the washing machine.
Ok. The shirts I’ll give
Haircut and grooming.
The salon, or as I call it hairdressers, that I go to just happens to be the closest. I can’t be bothered to look for one in the centre of Birmingham and it would be a gamble on what chop I get. With regards to what I ask for I normally want something with as little upkeep as possible, after they but the gunk in my hair the most it gets afterwards tends to be ol’ fashioned H2O. In fact if it takes more than 20 seconds to do my hair in the morning I consider it a bad hair day.
The flat was small because that’s all I could afford and it was in the city centre so I could walk to work rather than pay for petrol. The fact it came with a balcony was a bonus. The colour scheme in the front room was red, black and white which happen to be the colours for the football team AC Milan (who I support). The curtains match because I happened to find two similar pairs in the shop I was in and thought “sorted, now I don’t have to look at any more soft furnishings”. My ‘unique designer bookcases’ were Billy’s from Ikea that I wallpapered, because they were too white, but you can’t see the pattern as it was hidden by books.
I tend to just find playlists of a few hundred acts that have been put together by others, and it will often happen that I will like a weird act from there that no one has heard of before. Yet I also like crappy pop bands like S Club 7, Kylie and Girls Aloud, and they tend to be liked by…oh hang on. Lets ignore music as well.
I think the accusations about me being metrosexual are complete bunkum, I mean I come from a working class household in an old mining town. I take no care over my hair, I don’t own a man-bag (but was looking for one the other day) and couldn’t fit into a pair of skinny jeans.
I don’t have any tattoos for one reason, I am not keen on needles. I barely tolerate having an injection and with those I know that it is essential for preventing me getting ill. Voluntarily being stabbed doesn’t really rank high on my “things to do” list. Added to this I would be unsure as to what style I would want, I did like the idea the Lord of the Rings cast had by all getting the same elvish marking. Still, like getting my ear pierced, it is not something I have ever thought of getting.
How on earth am I metrosexual?
I say all this sitting here drinking a cup of organic jasmine tea, in a glass
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Tattoo….You?.”
Do you have a tattoo? If so, what’s the story behind your ink? If you don’t have a tattoo, what might you consider getting emblazoned on you skin?