A few days ago, I was talking with a couple of people from a somewhat older generation, and I said something about having been a bit of a goth in my late teen years. (In response to a woman’s son having been rather grunge in about the same time period.) Which didn’t feel quite right to me….
Last night I watched Velvet Goldmine, and I realized that what I wanted to be, back in the early/mid 90s, was a glam rocker girl. The clothes, the music, the elan of the age — as mediated by 20 years — all appealed to something in me: brighter and more dress-up than goth, androgynous, dance-able. There’s a self I’ve buried these last few years who is still happily singing along with “John, I’m only dancing.”
Evading deeper thought on that point, I think I want to get Bowie’s Man Who Sold the World (which I used to have, not sure what happened to it) and some T-Rex (I think Myke used to have Electric Warrior).