I have excellent bad taste

What is bad taste? (besides a film by Peter Jackson)

Wikipedia defines taste sociologically as “an individual’s personal and cultural patterns of choice and preference. Taste is drawing distinctions between things such as styles, manners, consumer goods and works of art and relating to these. Social inquiry of taste is about the human ability to judge what is beautiful, good and proper.”

So what makes it bad?

Bad taste would be something that doesn’t conform to the norms of a certain time or area, and if that’s what it is, then I have plenty. I enjoy wearing garish colours occasionally, weird and unusual shoes (hello, Irregular Choice!) and bizarre accessories. I am drawn to the loud colours of retro clothes and homewares. I like tacky jewelry and although I don’t wear it as much as I’d like to, I have boxes and boxes full of fun and colourful pieces. I like anything that has a sense of humour to it and to me, kitschy items push all those buttons.

I also enjoy looking at minimalist fashions, the less is more kind of design can also be appealing as there is so much cleverness in the details. But in the end of the day, I am a more is more kind of gal. If you ask me to pick between an Elsa Schiaparelli lobster dress or something by Issey Miyake, although I like both, the lobster dress wins. The conflict between both styles can be seen in the way I dress and I think I have managed to do a bit of a balance between both. But because I still like the loud, kitschy stuff and because of it, I believe I probably fall into the bad taste slot, for a lot of people. Not that I really care.

How about you? Do you like the tacky things in life?

The Hang Over Parts 1, 2 and 3!

My life has been made up of a lot of partying which consequently has resulted in many hangovers. When we’re growing up people are often given words of wisdom, you behave differently, you think differently your decision making changes blah, blah, blah. What people fail to expand on is the monumental change in the hangover and how this alone can have an impact on your life and how you live it! I am here to educate, forewarn or empathise, dependent on your age.

Hangover Part 1 (20’s)

A night out usual started a lot later at this time of life, I remember my Mum shouting at me: “Where the bloody hell do you think you’re going at this time, it’s 11 o clock at night!” Thunderbird, Mad Dog and other refined beverages were the order of the day for bedroom pre drinks. In fact Alan Carr often offers these favourites to his guests, although it’s in jest, he knows what I’m talking about.

With the night starting late and with earlier closing hours in this era (2am for clubs), a lot of drinking was squished into a short time resulting in lots of sickly taxi rides home. My technique was to sit central in the back seat and find a point to focus on in the distance out of windscreen. If journey was made with no window rolling, or emptying contents of your stomach into the contents of you handbag, then one would prepare themselves for the spinning bed. And no, putting one foot out of the bed on the floor does not help. Pros of being younger; more likely to be childless, living at home with parent and no live in partner results in an undisturbed pass out and allowing a full night’s sleep.

Results: you wake up when you want, guzzle a can of coke, eat a MacDonald’s for breakfast, go back to sleep, wakeup at tea time, guzzle can of coke, eat a Kentucky then go out again. Hang over done.

Part 2 (in your 30’s)

At this stage in life you’re drinking because you have a problem or you are still going out holding on to your youth. The night may start earlier at this point, early doors 5ish on Friday straight from work. Maybe 9ish if you’re going pubbing and ‘ maybe’ clubbing as you can’t commit to anything past midnight at this age. You start lying to yourself at this age too: “I’m just having a couple then I’m going home”, “I’m going to drive so I can’t be drinking”. Of course we all know the couple turns into 10 and the car gets left until the morning with a parking ticket on it.

We also lie about what we’re going to drink: “I’m not drinking wine its deadly” or “No spirits for me, they don’t agree with me, just cider tonight.” By the end of the night you’ve been along the optics and even tried new drinks because your ‘bored’ with the usual. After sinking copious amounts you don’t need to be asked if you’re going clubbing, in fact you’re doing the begging. You don’t stop there “There’s a party back at….” and you’re off there too. You now start counting the hours until you’ve got be at work, or, when kids are being dropped back. “If I get in by 3 I’ll have 5 hours sleep.” Yeah of course, 5 hours is all your going to need, delusional!

You finally arrive home, don’t ask how, no seriously don’t, you can’t remember. If you can remember the journey home there is the likely hood a whole section of the night has gone missing: “We didn’t go there?!” or “I never ate that?!” These are blackouts, they’re usually introduced and more common from your thirties onward.

Result: You literally pass out when the alarm for work or the door knocks with returning children. Your head feels as though your brain has swelled to the size of your mattress yet is squashed into your knickers drawer having a heartbeat of its own pulsating against your skull. When moving the nausea greatens, your tongue is likened to the bottom of a budgies cage, extreme dehydration forces you to guzzle anything in sight, luke warm water straight from taps is standard.

Movement is too much you hang over your toilet bowl. Lay back on bed, desk or sofa and repeat for 5 hours. Guzzle can of coke and eat MacDonald’s. The mental hangover is introduced at this age. Signs are nervousness, lots of guilt, shame and beating yourself up. This can last the whole day but after an early night and swearing you’ll never drinking again, you are likely to be back in the saddle in 2 days time.

Part 3 (in your 40’s)

By now your partying days have died down and you tend to go out on ‘occasions’ only. Life is at a different pace and nights out aren’t the be all and end all. However, end all is probably a good term to use. Birthdays, works leaving do’s, Christmas, New Year these are the occasions that usually justify a drink.

The night tends to start early 7.30ish , the suggestion of any later receives retorted looks as the fact is you’re usually in bed by 10! It’s not usual at this age to gulp cheap drink with a high volume alcohol before you go as you’ve probably got kids hanging off you whilst you try to get ready.

I like to keep to my ciders now, well for the most part. I know anymore than 2 pints and I’m going over the top, entering no-man’s land. A funny thing happens at this age you drink until your pissed then, although you have no intentions of going clubbing, you hit the shots before you go home. This results in one of two things you puke in taxi on way home or it starts when you get through the front door. Another way of showing my maturity is I stagger about making myself a pint of Berrocca and taking two headache tablets. There that should do it. No kebabs or nasty greasy food oh no, my palette is far to mature for that, I shall demolish crackers instead.

Result: Ding! I awake at 7am, I cannot go back to sleep. I want to die. I must have water yet I am physically frozen frightened to move. I lay for hours until I it’s no use I have to go for a wee. I cannot fathom how my body is producing liquid when so dehydrated that I’m mummified, (plus side to this is my feeling super skinny, almost Twiggy like)! When moving from the bed the dregs of bile stir in my stomach, let the retching commence! Also by this age I’ve pushed out a few kids from my nether regions leaving my bladder a little unreliable adding a new element to the hang over retch.

Now let’s talk about the mental effects. Not being able to go back to sleep leaves me with plenty of time to lie and think about what a disgrace of a woman, partner, mother and human being I am. I’m in the boxing ring, in the blue corner is me, in the red corner……oh it’s me, let the fight begin. I’m such a bad person, my life is so rubbish, what’s the point.

Anxiety at this point is sky rocketing and I pant whilst grabbing my pounding heart. Well I would, if my arms weren’t disabled with pins and needles and for some inexplicable reason my lips weren’t pursing of their own accord. Kill me now! Oh no it’s ok I’m dying anyway. The phone rings, who is it, what do they want, WHY ARE THEY RINGING. I leave it, I couldn’t possibly have a conversation with another human being! Distraction is key I’ll watch some day time telly that will help me. It’s Cagney and Lacey, OMG the theme tune, those shrilling trumpets, what are they talking about, I can’t take it I know I’ll face the other way. Can still hear it need to change channel but cannot move AAHHH!

This will carry on for the WHOLE day, then the next until by day three you are just left with the post drink blues and with the ache of your organs trying to repair themselves. You may even have a line of contact open with the outside world!

If you are in your 20’s and reading this I am NOT exaggerating, If you’re in your 30’s nip it in the bud now coz you know it’s a cumin, and if you’re in your 40’s feel my pain and weep. You will thank me for this one day and you can’t say I didn’t warn you!

 

 

 

 

(Read more about Kate on the Contributors page or read her blog Vex in the Village)