Dear Pennie Smith ,
I thank the debaucherous rock powers that be for your photography.
Thank you for affirming my belief that it would be far more appropriate for me to learn the electric guitar rather than the piano (and/or the violin). For making me dream of seedy nights destroying five star hotel rooms in only the most artistic way possible. For introducing me to the beauty of the sight of countless empty (possibly broken) bottles of numerous intoxicating spirits (of the highly flammable and not dearly departed kind). And the sordid tales behind it all. Involving black leather, denim, anything short, tight and inappropriate and copious lashings of kohl on both boy and girl.
For providing aesthetic justification for my teenage angst and my misguided attempts to slash a good number of inches off my regulation tartan school skirt. And for the resultant feeling of rebellious cool when the vice principal told me it was far too short. For making me recall the feeling of listening to 'London Calling' for the first time and thinking I had actual artistic cred.
For inspiring me to embrace my inner leather clad, intoxicated misfit.
And to rock the Casbah via air guitar in the privacy of my own room.
Like every bona fide social outcast. Who isn't actually cool.
Love
xx
Bec
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