Model: India Hope Shaw-Weston.
A new year and changes in all forms , some unwelcome like nutty bird shit on your fave going out top. But it’s all for the better I tell me sen, getting out your comfort zone and all that, confronting my ugly inner self and above all finding my soul again. Like learning to draw freely without turning into Satan’s daughter and having a paddy.
Time warp through the hometown of Cradle of filth, Suffolk 2016.
Taken on a psychedelic ride through Disneyland Pontins, passing the love shacks of fornicating cheating parents, fart odored ginger kids on skittle trips, through to an oasis of bimbo bread and panda ham. All yours for just under a tenner! We set up camp in a lovely spot, soon to be accompanied by the famous sweetcorn hedgehog and Lola the bastard dog. Four eyes failed miserably at seducing Tom with her bubble wand, she had fallen madly in love with the curly haired boy and he couldn’t even spare her a glance in his processed cheese coma, mug of echo falls in hand.
Followed by Whitbeh and DIY.
Probably one of the last visits to the southern homelands. Once a vibrant village, now a ghost town. As a younger lass I remember the swims in the lake, the bustle of processions and dances in the square, going to buy a fuck ton on apple laces and cheeto pelotazos from the corner shop, watching the rest of the street dwellers natter and screech, leaving their mountains of sunflower seeds. But it was all good coz there were tourists, people had work and the bars were busting at the seams with the usual bandits, misfits and slurring ex pats. Once I emerged from my ugly stage, I’d even gotten optimistic about a summer romance with my first lust- although that daydream disappeared the day I discovered I had a substantial amount of pubic hair- sadly in front of this beautiful boy. There I was- a blossoming teenager with no tits to show for it but in my favourite frilly pink bikini. Favourite meaning I’d worn it until the elastic had completely disappeared revealing my embarrassment. A few weeks later I could have sworn that was it, someone was going to kiss me!!- thank the Virgin Mary my luck had changed!!! This other specimen reached to the back of my head and pinched my claw grip out my ( chlorine green ) hair and proceeded to stick it on his willy!
4 years later I ended up kissing my school beau in the back of someones car which was cut short as my ride home was up. It was sweet and tender and everything i imagined but better. I never encountered him again after that, but to my misery and heart break my other sibling had -as she exclaimed in her fog horn voice “what a massive penis and good shag I bagged!”
Collection of printed Kimonos by me. Neoprene material sponsered by Speedo.
Yellow one is a UV Print onto neoprene avec tassells. Blue Long Kimono is digitally printed, fused onto neoprene and embroidered. Clown-tastic sleeved Kimono is digitally printed and quilted for your majesty. Additional fashion pieces- laser cut gold foiled neoprene, rope and laser cut acrylic.
Who’d have thunk the white rat from the donkey village would have trekked along parched mountains of goats and boars to a land of pigeons and grey concrete to eventually fulfill the dream and graduate with a first class honours 8 years later?
4 years of education later, and I’m still non the wiser. I’d like to say in my last year I finally pulled my shit together and aimed for the stars in an almighty sprouting of confidence but instead derailed along the way into the usual self loathing state wishing I could just believe my poo really did smell of roses. From upholstered furniture to 3D sculpture to Fashion garments, the identity crisis goes on and my sketchbook reflects that well. Ups and downs, smiles and frowns, swings and roundabouts and all those annoying sayings my boss says, in the end I tried to accept my traits and “ride the wave man”. I realised the ebbs and flows of my project make sense now, and may even believe I have pulled something off to be proud of and that even my fabric pervert of a Dad is impressed by.