And so they come to worship on a Saturday afternoon. The gleaming orange foreheads framed by tightly drawn back hair and symmetrically perfect eyebrows. The legends Abercrombie & Fitch and Paul's Boutique brightly emblazoned across baby pink casual wear. Leggings jostle with carefully torn skinny jeans for attention. Gold painted plastic hoops dangle on the lobes adjacent to the piercings resplendent on tongues, lips and noses. High top trainers and floor scraping Uggs adorn the feet of the shopping centre glitterati.
The male counterparts sport short back & sides and beige trousers in shrunken splendour. Tight shirts and low waistbands abound. Roman numerals and Celtic scripts exposed on forearms and faces speak of beauty regime and revealer. The courtesans of consumerism worshiping in the dark recesses of Holister, like moths to an extremely dim flame.
Just another day in the culture of what is not just 'me, me, me' but 'now, now, now'.
...or maybe I'm just too old to understand? now theres a thought.
...or maybe I'm just too old to understand? now theres a thought.
