A mod-grandfather's guide to fashion and music
As a quick addendum to my recent post on (gulp) Quadrophenia, here are a few words about music, clothes and ... survival. Sort of. Because, as is always the way, no sooner had I done my oh-so-insightful blog on Franc Roddam's film, than I immediately bumped into a bunch of mod (or mod-ish) records and also caught sight of this rather ghastly sneaker/plimsoll/trainer thing: Yes, there I was, innocently sitting on the Windrush Line going down sarf, when I noticed the bloke opposite me with this footwear. Actually, what I first noticed was that he had a nasty black eye and cuts and bruises on his face (poor guy). Probably in his late-fifties/early-sixties (my age), apart from his bashed-up physical state he was very much Average Bloke. Except for those Lambretta trainers. (Or because of those Lambretta trainers?). Normally I probably wouldn't have given his shoes a second glance but I'd just immersed myself in the juvenile thrills and spills of Quadrophenia so I found them s...
