the
lesson
It's time to leave. I start to get the coats out of the cloakroom.
We are media maidens slumming it, fooling around with working-class
culture. Ten years ago girls like us - girls who work in publishing and new media
and fashion - would not have got tarted up and set out to get wankered. We'd have
had a dinner party. We'd have gone to the theatre.
If I were feeling clever, I'd say we're playing at 'ironic
retraditionalisation'. You know, like Guy Ritchie in Snatch. Poshos fooling around
with working-class culture, ironic-stylee.
But you know what? I'm not feeling clever. I mean, I'm wearing
deeley-boppers. I don't think I'll ever feel clever again.
Hen nights are horrible.
Here endeth the lesson.
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