Subcultures that captured my heart ~*~AND MY SOUUUUL~*~

Inspired by a blogpost on Sibby's blog, I travelled to the depths of my old Photobucket account to see what subcultures I'd been apart of throughout my teenage years. Incase you can't tell, I am not looking forward to turning twenty in July. But then again, when I see these pictures, sometimes I think it might be a good thing.

Shortly after my thirteenth birthday I was overcome with the desire to dye my hair red. My mother was happy to oblige because it wasn't that girl from Paramore or some other teenage idol that inspired me... it was Bree from Desperate Housewives. Whilst I am sure there are probably some pictures of me with this hair colour in the depths of the Internet somewhere, I can not find any. Anyway, the only reason I mention this is because my head of year in year nine hated me more than was probably legal, like she made it perfectly obvious she detested me. And this was all because she was a PE teacher and I struggled to run for thirty seconds before claiming a heart attack. Long story short, after countless weeks of arguing ("I did dye it, it just didn't work") I was forced into dying my hair black to save myself from expulsion. There was a girl in my school who did liquid gold and 'ruined' a chair in the maths department, so my school attacking me over a hair colour clearly shows where its priorities where. Nonetheless, my reaction to this forced hair colour was to give myself over to the dark side, literally, and trade my previous ~*~super kawaii~*~ style (think granny cardigans, lensless glasses and neon hair bows) for the attire of a funeral attendee. Thus, thirteen year old emo Rosy (and her unruly block fringe) was born. Note: click the picture, I seem to have been cropped out of my own blog, thanks Blogger.

What I like about this picture is the two other girls in it identified as goths, but we still looked exactly the same. Teenage originality at its finest.

When I was about fourteen the black dye had finally started to fade and at the same time, thanks to the wonders of Myspace, I had the discovered the art of the scene kid. Now I never actually managed to perfect this and to this day I blame my mother. Peroxide hair was a must for this subculture uniform ("if you wanna rebel, look like me"), but my mother was very much against letting me ruin my hair at such a young age, so the compromise was that I was allowed to bleach chunks of my hair blonde as long as I stayed away from having to dye my roots every month. I thought I would be sneaky and dye more and more of it until I was fully blonde, which kinda worked, but it took a year.

I was quite content with hair bows, skinny jeans (I was the first of my friends to get skinny jeans at age thirteen, still proud of that) and Nike Dunks for about two years. Being a wannabe scene kid was probably the subculture that held my attention for the longest, even though I seem to have reverted into my twelve/thirteen year old self recently with my love of black and studding everything I own. I attempted to have a brief experience with indie culture, but that literally lasted about two months before I got really bored of cardigans and the colour teal. Before I became a total slave to Topshop at sixteen (still ongoing by the way, I need help), I finally achieved the peroxide bleach hair I'd craved for so long. I don't know what made my mother finally give in, I just asked when I was fifteen and she agreed. I mean, I had to be ginger for a couple of weeks and when I finally got my white hair I knew I looked like Patrick Starr (I was pink), but I refused to get rid of it. I had worked hard for that hair. I don't remember when it stopped being ice blonde, it seems to have happened gradually until I realised my hair was the horrible ash colour I seem permanently stuck with now. But this was when my four year obsession with Myspace seemed to die and before I decided to grow my hair out for the first time since I was twelve.

It seemed like my teenage fashion sense was more fickle than this when I planned to write this post. I also couldn't find a picture from when I had a pink and blue fringe at age, what I think was, fifteen. All I've come to realise from this post is that 1) I'll do anything instead of revision and 2) I like to think I'm super fashionable and above all of this now but the Star Wars shirt I'm wearing would have been ripped off me by fourteen year old Rosy if she was given the chance (mmmm, time travel incest, niiiice).