Because first impressions last

We got satellite TV at home in the late 80s. A ridiculously large dish facing southwards towards the Astra satellite, transmitting a plethora of weird and wonderful channels from the continent, mostly German so loadsa mullets. The thing I remember most vividly, apart from Peter's Pop Show, was a frankly ludicrous 'entertainment' show called Tutti Frutti, which combined quiz games and striptease. By the contestants. The extravaganza was complete with a bikini clad dance troupe, The Cin Cin Girls, who at frequent intervals revealed their bosoms, each one with a jeweled fruit covering the nipples. Pineapple, cin cin!

It wasn't all about mulleted German wannabe strippers however. Eurosport introduced me to snooker and figure skating. MTV transformed the way I consumed, invested in and engaged with popular music. This was of course back in the day when MTV was relevant, championing new artists, helping to elevate the music video to an art form, breaking new ground (The Real World was way ahead of its time). My 11 year old self lapped it all up with gusto. I'd spend hours watching VJ's like Ray Cokes, Paul King, Marijne van der Vlugt and Kristiane Backer, discovering artists I would've otherwise ignored. First and foremost MTV was responsible for introducing me to R.E.M. for which I'm eternally grateful. 

An added feature of satellite TV was the adverts. Swedish telly at this time consisted of 2 public service channels so ads felt oh so novel. For one reason or another certain ones still reside in my memory - Warsteiner alkoholfrei, C&A Young Collections, Alles Müller oder was, and Head & Shoulders - because first impressions last. Or having dandruff will ruin your life.

I was reminded of the significance of first impressions at a conference I attended earlier this week, around improving vulnerable people's experience of health and social care services. The opening presentation was delivered by a chap with a substance misuse past, now 20 years clean. He provided an open and frank insight into his own experiences as a homeless heroin user trying to access services like A&E and GPs. His unkempt appearance didn't go unnoticed by staff at such services and in his mind on occasion had a significant impact on the way care was delivered, or not as might've been the case. It's clearly not all about being dandruff free in the real world. 

His presentation struck a chord with me, as someone who's been involved in providing services for vulnerable people and at times struggled to remain non-judgemental and value neutral, particularly when faced with frequently occurring behavioural patterns. The cunning brain fills your conscience with all sorts of messages based on first impressions, it's up to you to filter these and act or behave accordingly. I hold my hand up and admit that there have been occasions professionally where I've jumped to conclusions based on someone's appearance. Best intentions and all that, sometimes you just have to give yourself a mental slap in the face. My only saving grace is that I'm fairly certain it seldom came across that way to the person in front of me. And noone's perfect.

Don't judge a book by its cover the old adage goes. Sometimes that's easier said than done. Head & Shoulders clearly recognised it. We are all closet cover judgers. Word: Tinder. Two words: heat magazine. Four words: No likey, no lightey. The way we look is obviously only one aspect of our personality and the multi billion pound fashion/beauty/grooming industry's airbrushing, self esteem crushing, debt inducing methods are highly questionable. Some people manage to very successfully navigate the shallow waters of shallowness with a 'fuck the lot of 'em' approach to looks and appearances. Nevertheless a lot of us lap it up like brainwashed minions. In my experience very few people wear clothes simply as a method of covering up their modesty, or have hair on their head just to protect the scalp from sunburn. It's a bit more than that. Making ourselves look the way we feel comfortable with, for sure, looking our best to others, possibly, making a first impression, surely the Head & Shoulders clever clogs weren't right?! 

In terms of impressions, my recent purchases may conjure up images of someone who's a slightly frantic spender, which has been well documented, someone who likes to buy (at least) two of everything, also true, someone who loves blue chinos more than anything in the world, perhaps a tad exaggerated, someone who values quantity over quality, very much the case. So here's the fruit of my labour:

French Connection black pea coat - £98

Another Influence camel overcoat - £110

Primark check shirt - £5

Primark burgundy scarf - £5

Primark black roll neck jumper - £8

Asos deep blue chinos - £10.50

Primark royal blue chinos - £10

Asos tweed trousers - £18

New Look brown brogues - £18.50

Le Coq Sportif purple trainers - £24

Asos blue suede shoes - £10.50

My autumn wardrobe has come a long way since the days of Tutti Frutti and MTV's Most Wanted with Ray Cokes, as has my way of seeing the world. Listening to the former substance misuse talker however, made for a timely reminder to do a stock check of my own values and how they influence my perceptions of others I come across. Because first impressions really don't have to last. 

Works of art

Yesterday I went on the free monthly Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans and Queer/Questioning (LGBTQ) tour of the V&A. Lasting an hour, the tour incorporated a range of museum objects with a link of sorts to LGBTQ matters - artist, inspiration, depiction, origin. It provided a fascinating insight into works of art that otherwise could've easily passed one by, either through their small scale, individual insignificance or lack of background info. Notable exception was the cast of Michelangelo's David. If you fail to spot that one you're worryingly oblivious to the world around you. My favourite stop on the tour was the Fashion room and the Charles James evening dress, which unbeknown to me was made out of a print designed by Jean Cocteau as an ode to his lover Jean Marais. Flowers and chocolates eat your heart out.

The V&A highlights better than most other museums that works of art come in all guises, shapes, sizes, materials and formats. It's not just about oil paintings and marble sculptures. Tracey Emin will argue, much to the chagrin of parents of teenage children, that an unmade bed is to be revered. Marina Abramovic found beauty in silently staring into strangers' faces for days upon end and Damien Hirst turned packs of E45 and Calpol into high brow. And works of art aren't simply confined to the sterile white walls of a gallery. Take for instance the street art of Shoreditch or this screen print by London based Felix Green:

I came across his work one Sunday afternoon at Brick Lane market and was immediately drawn to this design. Without hesitation I purchased a t shirt for £20, The design is nothing short of stunning, and should be considered a work of art as much as any of the tediously numerous depictions of madonna and child hanging in the Louvre. Bold, intricate, interesting, arresting. The kind of apparel that elevates both look and spirit in one effortless swoop. I've got my eye on a black sweat with a similarly awesome grizzly bear design and will continue to keep abreast of his sardonic offerings

I'm on a roll in the excellent t shirt stakes at the moment. Slightly less gob smackingly good but commendable still is this little number from a vendor at Spitalfields market:

Random animated cityscape, an elongated peacock and a Japanese style moon/sun. Who could resist? It only set me back a tenner too. Joy! The signage reckoned that all the items were hand printed, which I very much doubt. Nevertheless it looks great. Spitalfields is a proper little goldmine for quirky offerings. I shall definitely re-visit at an appropriate frequency. The street food looks pretty mega too.  

Being distinctly low brow by nature, wearable works of art like the above resonates more keenly with me than say the Mona Lisas or Venus de Milos of this world. Although every now and then I feel the urge to raise the brow bar a few notches. Long live the free museum! Or rather long live the statutory arts funding that keeps the museums free. The enemy of the people that is the Tory government hasn't yet managed to squander that one in the name of austerity. But works of art are so much more than museums. The beauty is that there's a place for all, literally something for everyone, and it's not all about the cultural elite. Art is right there on your doorstep. Go explore!