Creating my Subculture of one
PART THREE
Stepping out of Art College, my journey of self-discovery and personal expression was far from over. In the years that followed, I continued to rebel against societal expectations, experimenting with a myriad of fashion statements – each one a step closer to finding my true self. And while I eventually found my way back into the realm of ‘normalcy’, it wasn’t long before a new character emerged – one that would take me to even greater heights of individuality: the Cavalier. But this new persona wasn’t born overnight; rather, it was the culmination of a decade-long process of self-exploration and personal growth. In this chapter, I will recount how I transformed from a rebel without a cause into a true iconoclast.
After Art College, I felt the need to get a job, get a haircut cut and dress normally for a while. So I ditched the pseudo-urban hippy and became a business-shirted young Graphic Designer for a couple of years. This only lasted a couple of years and I started growing my hair long again. In this period my ‘look’ evolved. Mother sourced a shirt design for me. It was a pattern for what was called a ‘poets shirt’. A design from the 17th Century. It was essentially an undershirt style, with a lace-up collar and big voluminous sleeves. She made a couple for me and they were an instant favourite. I did though, find that the design had some shortcomings so I asked her to modify the design. Over time, the shirt evolved from the standard white lace-up collar to amazing creations with bright paisley patterns, and got even bigger and more voluminous by using three meters of fabric. Luckily I am 6’4” tall and can wear such a huge shirt, but smaller people wearing my shirt look like they are in a tent.
Occasionally abuse
This was the beginning of a new clothes adventure which evolved into living for ten years a 17th century Cavalier. For ten years, all through the nineties, I dressed every day in huge bright poets shirts, handmade bucket top cavalier boots, and big broad-brimmed hat with ostrich and peacock feathers. The shirts by this time had lots of lace and ruffles. I had a black floor-length velveteen coat. I wore my hair long and dyed it red to match my beard. I wore my beard as a goatee with a waxed moustache. I carried an antique leather bag. That’s all the clothes I had. That said, I had lots of shirts to choose from but my choice was only to be a Cavalier that day and every day thereafter.
The reactions were incredible. Occasionally abuse, but not often, sometimes congratulations. Sometimes enquiry as to whether I was an actor in costume, but mostly it was outright incredulity and amazement. I used to take public transport just to show off. Which is weird because I am about as introverted as I could possibly be. I used my costume as a way to keep people at bay. People just couldn’t pick where I fit into their worldview. I wasn’t a goth because I was too colourful. I wasn’t a hippie, because what I was wearing didn’t fit that model either. They just couldn’t slot me into any sub-culture. I achieved my goal of becoming a subculture of one. I had swords and a couple of antique muskets for show, but I didn’t wear any other them in public. I lived at that time in a huge old slightly decaying grand mansion that had a really gothic feel to it and it suited the cavalier look perfectly.
Cavalier days didn’t last forever
I enjoyed my time as a 17th Century Cavalier. I used to walk through shopping centres in my full regalia with my mother and sister, but they’d walk behind me specifically to see the reactions on people’s faces as I paraded along. I couldn’t see how people reacted as they always did it as I passed them. I loved it. Heads would spin with mouths agape in amazement. I was a spectacle. Rarely did anyone confront me. I used my height to ensure that it would take a brave person to confront me. I felt safe.
My cavalier days didn’t last forever. In the mid-nineties, I developed Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and while I continued to dress lavishly, by the end of the nineties the sparkle was wearing off. Life was becoming more of a struggle day to day and I found it much harder work to dress and show off anymore. I found as I got sicker I didn’t want the attention. I didn’t want to dress every day. I just wanted to be invisible.
And that leads on to another story.
But my footnote to this epic is that you can be and do anything you want to be at any time in your life. It’s only a matter of choice. If you can choose it you can do it. Many people in life don’t have a choice. The situation they are born into mostly dictates how their lives will play out. But, if you have a choice, you can choose anything. You can choose happiness as a simple everyday choice. You don’t have to go to the extreme that I did and dress lavishly every day. Of course, if you want to, go for it. Do it! But choosing to be happy with who you are is possibly the easiest and hardest choice you’ll ever make. Clothes are just external decoration. Nothing more. It’s who you are inside that really defines who you are. Not your clothes. Go out and live your best life!