I was never the cool kid at school. Year 7 hit me like a slap in the face. I had a bad haircut, the wrong accent and a pre-pubescent skin problem. Having been pretty popular throughout primary school, I remember feeling out on a limb in this strange new territory of older kids and cool girls with super-savvy sportswear and an attitude to match.
By contrast to the Reebok Classics and Adidas hoodies I rocked up to school in scuffed DMs and a hippy hat I’d found in a Vintage store. In any other school this might have won me street cred points, but in my school – the one deliberately out of catchment area so I didn’t have to attend the local comp my mum taught in – I was instantly branded a bit of a loser.
I had various nicknames in Year 7. “Little Man” was the one that stuck – given me by a Year 10 who thought my hairstyle looked less like my intended heroine of Justine Frischmann (“off of Elastica”) than the tragic Chesney Hawkes. I scuttled past those Year 10s in the corridors into the safety of my classroom, only to be met by equally scathing comments of some of my less forgiving classmates. [Read More…]Follow