Winona Ryder in Beetlejuice totally got it (Picture: Allstar/Cinetext/Warner Bros)

Sensitive and artistic teenagers set adrift in the colourful soup of the 1980s found solace in the gothic.

White of face and clad in black you were a world away from the day-glo pop and clothes of mere mortals.

You were transcendent, you were other.

But it wasn’t easy, it wasn’t just about spending your days trussed up in uncomfortable dark clothing and standing in front of a gravestone when you had your picture taken.


No, it was a difficult road beset with hardship – such as the following.

Not being somewhere you could be understood

With only late night radio and music magazines to keep you up to date you’d spend hours in your room piercing your own ears, perfecting a black cat’s eye and backcombing the highest hair you could manage.



If only you had enough money to travel to the darkly glamorous cities of Leeds or Reading, where you could hang out with your fellow brethren, where you’d heard there were actual shops and clubs dedicated to the dark art of being a goth.

Where your favourite bands were from and where no one would judge you for wearing 15 crucifixes if you wanted to.

You and a chosen few queued forever to get into The Batcave or see a gig at The Town & Country Club.

You were so alone. Just you and your hairspray and black lipstick.

Getting lost in Kensington Market

Or Ken Market as you soon realised you should call it.

Traipsing up and down the 3.5 floors of stalls that all looked exactly the same searching for the cheapest crushed velvet cape dressed in all your finery was a day long affair.

But it was the best place to be appreciated for your sartorial efforts and the only place you could pick up the tightest black jeans known to mankind.

You held a studded wrist band aloft the day it was closed down in memory of all the times you tried on a PVC outfit there.

Your elaborate vocabulary, your elaborate name

After much study you learnt how to spell and pronounce important words such as Nephilim, Corrosion, Bauhaus, Amphetamine, Sanctuary and Merciful and insisted on using them in daily conversation.

You might have even asked to be called something completely different, maybe your full length name or maybe something like Moonchild or Deville.

(Your author actually changed her name to Alice in tribute to the Sisters Of Mercy song – true fact).

Taking a side after The Sisters Of Mercy split

Dark days indeed.

After the seminal, life-changing, never off your turntable First And Last And Always LP the earth shifted on its axis as the divine partnership of Andrew Eldritch and Wayne Hussey split – Eldritch to continue with The Sisters and Hussey to form The Mission.

In an overly dramatic fashion you had to state an allegiance.

But The Mission slightly veered off the dark path towards a more hippie style so I hope you chose right?



Finding a studded leather belt in your local shopping centre

‘Result. I thought you could only buy these in London. Not a total embarrassing waste of a shopping trip with the family then?’

Being denied basic rights

Your friends drank halves of lager in the pub, or worse – alcopops.

You’d order a foaming tankard of mead only to be met with a shake of the head.

Furious to be somewhere that didn’t sell mead you’d agree to a snakebite and black if you had to, but only if it was served in a goblet.


The indignity of having to do PE with crimped hair and a full face

Basically anything to do with physical activity.

Everyone would be waiting to see you disrobed from the usual black drapes and slumming it in light coloured shorts and t-shirt, which so didn’t go with the painted visage.

You also ran the risk of getting a tan if you were outside without your veil, or worse – freckles.

But it was the fact the wind would take the crimp from your hair and make that eyeliner run that really hurt.

Running the black dye gauntlet


You weren’t allowed to but you were going to.

The more well known brands of hair dye just weren’t dark enough for you though, only Inecto Deep Black would turn your locks into a colour so dense and matte it had it’s own event horizon.

It also left your fingers, ears, forehead and every towel in your house forever marked.

Standing up for All About Eve after THAT Top Of The Pops appearance

Poor old All About Eve.

Their mysticism was obviously far too strong for the commercial show that was Top Of The Pops as they sang their break out hit Martha’s Harbour in 1988.

Unable to hear the backing track the fragrant flower that was Julianne Regan sat awkwardly on a stool with her mouth shut, looking aside for help and shrugging as the song played on.

They were invited back on the week after to sing it again live, but it was too late, the fairytale was over.

And you had to put up with the cruel jibes.

Hanging out with casual friends

After growing out of Duran Duran suddenly everyone else was into chunky knits and The Waterboys.

Your beige friends looked askance at your creaking, smelly black leather attire and dismissed monkey boots and purple velvet as suitable fashion choices.

You weren’t invited back round for tea after the time you arrived dressed in a black lace outfit not even your own parents knew you owned and didn’t utter a word for the whole visit.

Being grateful for that one song in the club

After spending all night having to listen to pop and RnB the goths were generally thrown a bone towards the end of the night and you and your kind would rush the floor to take your turn, to lankily throw yourself around to the latest acceptable release from The Cure, The Cult or if you were lucky something a little more obscure.

After, sated and fulfilled you’d return to the fringes so the preppy heathens could reclaim the dance floor.

Ah… (un)Happy Days.

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