28. Put on Those Shoes

... being my thoughts on teenage fashion, and a type of french poetry dating from the twelfth century,

bonus points for identifying the album

They say that the teenager was invented in the 1950s. Before that decade there were only adolescents, who at some point would stop dressing in clothing designed specifically for children, and start dressing in clothing specifically designed for grown ups. The teenager, they say was a product of capitalist forces. The 1950s were a time that British people were told that they had never had it so good. Back in those days, you could leave school at 15, and walk straight into a job the next day. This meant that youngsters had greater disposable incomes than they had ever had in the past. The great machine of capitalism had to find a way of getting that money out of their grubby little fists. The concept of the teenager was born when entrepreneurs realised the commercial possibilities of exploiting the music that these youngsters were interested in. Rock and Roll. 

That is the theory anyway. It seems to have a ring of truth about it too. Whilst there have always been new forms of music, and adolescents have always wanted to express themselves, I can’t imagine the idea of a Youth Culture developing amongst the followers of Glenn Miller and his Orchestra in the 1940s in the same way as it did with Bill Haley and his Comets in the 1950s. It wasn’t just recordings of music that the kids who were drawn to rock and roll were buying - it was a whole new lifestyle and a whole new philosophy which could only find its expression in a whole new look. 

Actually, in Britain, it wasn’t so much the development of a new look as a rehashing of an old one. The lads who wreaked havoc in the cinemas when Bill Haley sang Rock Around the Clock in “Blackboard Jungle” liked to dress like dandies from the Edwardian age - Teddy Boys. Despite the retro look, every inch of them from their slicked back hair down to their crepe soled shoes was carefully cultivated to show that they were different. They were not children, but neither were they slightly younger replicas of their parents. They were a new force. They were also a new market.

There have been many incarnations of teenage fashion since those days and as those teenagers have grown up, many of them have stuck with the styles that they were first attracted to, well into adult life. It is possible to argue that we are all styled like teenagers now, all spending vast proportions of our disposable incomes to show how unique we are. Sadly, this makes it even harder for actual teenagers to show their uniqueness in the same way that they did back in the fifties.

Those fifties kids are mostly in care homes now, their once proud Duck’s Arse haircuts having been reduced to a few white wisps clinging to the mottled domes of their heads. It’s the way of the world. At some point in the future the care homes will be full of old blokes in hoodies with the waistbands of their trousers well below the level of their hips. They will have to re-design continence wear to fit the style. 

Shoes play a large part in any fashion craze. Crepe soles for the Teds, Doc Marten boots for the skinheads and punks, Jesus sandals or no shoes at all for the hippies and an incredible variety of trainers at an incredibly high price range for the fashion conscious kids of today. It seemed like a good topic for poetry to me, and when I was introduced to the poetic form known as the sestina, I came to feel that it was the perfect form for writing about youth culture, and shoes.  That feeling wasn’t my first reaction.

My first reaction was to be put off by the whole idea of sestinas. They are complicated. I’ll take a deep breath and try to explain…. The sestina is a twelfth century verse form, which was originally developed by troubadours in the French district of Provence. They do not normally contain rhymes, just six stanzas of six lines each and a seventh, three line stanza, known as the envoi. The words at the end of each line of the first stanza are repeated in a different order as the end words in each of the subsequent five stanzas, and the envoi contains all six words, one placed in the middle of, and one at the end of each line. Aaargh!

The very idea of it was enough to make my head spin. It was clear to me that a sestina is the sort of thing which is only attractive to the most anally retentive of poetry obsessives who have nothing better to do with their time than to battle at squeezing their thoughts clumsily into a pointless structure, just for the pleasure of seeing it all fit together. its a pursuit more akin to doing a jigsaw puzzle than actually creating real art.

But it was also clear to me that I am that anally retentive poetry obsessive, who has been known to complete the occasional jigsaw puzzle, therefore it was inevitable that I would set my mind to the task. I even developed an Excel spreadsheet to show me which word went at the end of each line as the poem progressed. That is seriously anally retentive behaviour.

My first attempt involved selecting six words that Donald Trump might use. I chose great, balls, beautiful, pussy, Trump and tellya. The resultant “Trump Sestina” was at least interesting. It created a pastiche effect of Trumpian nonsense. that used the words in a variety of ways. It culminated in the lines

Lord, give me pussy! Women! Beautiful!
Keep my life great! Smite my foes in the balls
Lord, I'm Donald J Trump! You'd best do what I tellya!

I thought it all very amusing, but I felt that the form could yeild something better. My breakthrough came when I had the revolutionary (at least to me) idea of starting with the envoi rather than with the six words, and working back to fill out the opening six stanzas.

I had to redesign the spreadsheet of course, but it now meant that I could work towards a pre prepared grand finale. The poem, which had started out in my mind just as a piece about fashion, rock and roll, and shoes, grew into something that contained the arrogance, confidence and swagger of the piece that I nicked the words in the envoi from.

I’ll not give the end away, so don’t go peeping. See if you can guess where it’s going. As if you are reading an Agatha Christie mystery, in an anally retentive manner.

Put on Those Shoes

Look at my shoes, at my brand-new shoes.
Hang the expense, its only fool’s money. 
I’ll cut a dash when I take a step 
out in my new shoes. I know I can show
everyone who I am. Look! I’m all set to go 
I can take on the world, Hey! World! I’m ready!

Here I am, capable, willing and ready
for anything! When I am wearing these shoes 
there are no rules at all! There's nowhere I can’t go, 
and all that I need, endless love, sex and money 
is right there for me. Waiting for me to show
everyone that I’m here, and I'm not out of step

I am the leader, the pace setter! Knowing my step
will be copied, by everyone, when they are ready 
they'll follow behind me as I stride and show 
the way, the direction, in these very shoes,
to a future worth ohh so much more than just money. 
Come with me now, come on! Time to go!

Our time is now! Its time for us to go
to meet life head on. Come - follow my step.
We can laugh at the old ones, all governed by money 
alone and all joyless, spent out and unready.
Tired and sad in their old fashioned shoes 
Our time is now! Let’s get off to the show

All the world is a stage and our lives are a show
Don’t just sit there and watch. Participate! Go
Buy beg, borrow or steal all the gear, the good shoes 
Invent yourself. Love yourself. Get into step 
Create yourself. Stir yourself. Get yourself ready 
Live for yourself: don’t live just for money

You will get nowhere by living for money
Good things will come when you live for the show
Love comes to people who show that they’re ready
Joy comes to those who are ready to go 
Now that you're ready to take the first step 
Take it! Get on with it, put on those shoes

‘Cause its one for the money and two for the show
Three to get ready and go, cat, go 
But don’t you step on my blue suede shoes