Leather

It was the uniform and armour of any self respecting metalhead, you could wear denim up to a point but eventually you had to buy a leather jacket.

I bought my first leather in 1990, up until that point I’d worn a white cotton jacket with an iron maiden print on the back, I looked more punk than metal. I left college in 1990 with little more than what I’d started, given up on being an intellectual and decided (actually pressured by my mum) to get a job. The first job I did (not counting summer jobs) was working as a kitchen porter for the night shift with my cousin, it was only for two weeks but the pay was fantastic, I did not earn that much again until 1997 maybe even latter. The first thing I did with the money, after mum took a chunk for keeping me, was go into Basildon and get me that leather. It was one of those typical metaller’s jackets that everybody had at the time, black, tasselled, and so many pockets I don’t think I ever managed to use them all at the same time. I also had enough money left over to buy a ticket to Iron Maidens concert at Wembley arena later that year. And then I got drunk.

Now any self respecting metaller from that time will tell you that the fucked look is best, it seems that today’s metallers go for a pristine black sort of look with everything looking all new and shiny, but the shops are now full of the “distressed” look so I suppose its still a step away from the mainstream. My jacket was used and abused faithfully for two solid stomping heavy metal years, it was beered on, it was vomited on, it was bled on, slept on, stood on, rained, snowed, hailed and bloody sunned on, moshed in, fallen over in, climbed over things in, stood around moodily in, I partied in it and got dumped in it but that jacket refused to look used, it had to go. I think it was October 1992 when I finally had enough. I went and bought a new (want old look, buy new - I know it doesn’t make sense) leather jacket from a place in lakeside shopping centre, I wanted something different so it was untasselled and a tighter fit that the old one (I had come under the influence of an old (32) punk whom I’d met through work), and so clad in my shiny new leather I went off to the pub to meet one of my mates (said punk).
Now funny thing was said punk was going through a bit of a nasty divorce and his missus had cut the arms of his old leather, to replace it he went to the same shop as I had about half an hour later and, like me, wanted something different to what he’d had (it was a tight fit and white, don’t ask why).
We sat in the pub looking at each others jackets, both identical apart from the size, justified our purchases and the set to drinking, by the end of the evening we had some how decided that we didn’t quite like the fit of our new(identical) jackets and swapped them after which we were perfectly happy with them. I’ve still got mine.

So new jacket new beginning? It was beered on, it was vomited on, it was bled on, slept on, stood on, rained, snowed, hailed and bloody sunned on, moshed in, fallen over in, climbed over things in, stood around moodily in, I partied in it and got dumped, several times, gigged in, festivalled in, chomped by horses, babies, dogs, I was kicked out of pubs in it, it was used as a sick bag and a blanket, the cat slept in it, moved house in it, and then again and again, and this jacket also refused to look used, I dumped it in a cupboard in 1995 just after I shaved my hair off (it just didn’t look right). The jacket has only seen daylight twice since then; when I saw Carter USM at the Pink Toothbrush and at a barbeque so a friend and I could reminisce. It looks knackered now but that’s due to sitting at the bottom of a cupboard for 11 years.