So I lied about that "mario now, next post later" thing. I just couldn't stop thinking about, after stalking some other blogs, about the good old HOW I BECAME A GOTH post.
I actually signed up today (yesterday, but because I'm so nocturnal, I am of the opinion a day does not go from 12am-11:59pm, but from dawn one day til dawn the next. It's a lot easier this way) as an excuse to follow Sarah. I got the idea to follow Sarah because she sent me a message asking if it'd be okay to mention me in her blag about how she became a goth (because I'm super-influential).
So I thought, Kitty, how did you become a goth?
Well, Kitty, I thought in return, causing some sort of odd internal conversation wherein I sounded like Christopher Lee. You always loved your sisters.
See, I'm the youngest of five. My eldest brother Dylan is 34 in November. Then there's Sally, whose first baby is born in August, Courtney, who is ten years older than me, Jake, who lives in Canada, and then little old me. I was a really sick baby. I cried a lot. So every day when my sister Courtney (henceforth refered to as Cork) got home from school, I was handed over to her. Remembering that she was ten. I mean, outside me, mum had four other kids, whoever they brought home, a bunch of animals and a husband to feed (plus, she and Dad were about a year and a half away from breaking up when I was born). So Cork would take me to the lounge room and dance with me til I went to sleep. She spent more time getting me to stop crying and go to sleep than both of her sons, combined. She was the only person who ever could and, you know, nothing much ever changed.
Now, kid-me didn't really see the fuckedupedness going on with my sister. I just saw....my sister. My sister, who I wanted to grow up to be like (without the drugs and pregnancy), who I wanted to dress like. Hell, at the end of year eight, I got my nose pierced, because I wanted to be just like her.
And then there was Sally. Sally...well, Dad called her Princess. Cork was "sausage", and I was "a very useful thing". Sal? Sal was daddy's princess. She was born the year my dad's mum, June, died...and she looked exactly like her, too. So there was that. This mixture of grunge, and punk, and gothic, and then this massive hit of classic beauty and pin-up girl. Courtney was all rough-and-tumble, all punk and ripped stockings and Emily the Strange. Sally was all neat hair and polka dots and red shoes.
I always loved Gothic clothes and culture, for as long as I could remember. I started changing at the end of primary school. In early highschool, I was much into the "witchy" kind of Goth. I was also severely bullied, and telling them I was a witch, and then "cursing" them (translating to: being a damn intelligent chick who could orchestrate things to her liking) helped get them to lay off. At the end of highschool, I met...someone, whose name I shan't mention, really. I don't think it's necessary. She and I, along with Sarah, started to, uh. Gothvolve. Yeah. It's like pokemon, but with platform boots.
Eventually, she wandered from the scene, and I was left to go on my own - but I continued this fashion evolution, and I learned some hard lessons, along with Heather, who I had brought into the goth world along with me. (She's a year younger and a foot taller than me.)
The lessons I learned? It's awesome to be a goth, but only in winter or when it's cloudy. In summer, all of my family reverts back to their Byron Bay roots - the shoes come off, the swimmers come out, the corsets get put away. You're no good to the goths if you're dying of heat exhaustion.
That's really my tip to any newcomers - summer is for bare feet and staying indoors.
Although I will never be like many of my gothic counterparts - with a specific style they stick to, and a particular culture many I have known like ("hey, do you know what's cool? drugs, alcohol and nightclubs!" I can assure you, none of those things are cool.), I am happy with myself. Some people may not see me as "goth" - I shop at Vinnies and JayJays, and wear old shoes - I am to me. I have my corsets, and my boots, and my lolita, and my platforms, and my ancient Doc Martens.
Because, hey, sometimes you gotta do what you love.
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