In Defence Of Spice Boys

 

My Gran and Papa, Robey and Agnes Ahlfeld

I was interested to read about the recent leaked Labour Party strategy document which suggested that patriotism and ‘dressing smartly’ should be included as part of a rebranding exercise to win back disillusioned working class voters and disassociate the party from the Jeremy Corbyn era.

There’s been much social media sneering and mockery directed towards this strategy but have you ever noticed all the well dressed, immaculately groomed young lads at family wedding and christenings?

Indeed, Millennials are certainly better turned out than my own scruffy Generation X peers whose idea of a ‘spice boy’ owes more to the losing 1996 Liverpool FA Cup side who decided to turn up at Wembely wearing matching cream coloured Armani suits, than Brillcreemed Joey Essex types.    

This Labour Party strategy also reminded me of my dear late Grandmother who used to come out with some brilliant put-downs, Nan was a tiny wee women but she could cut you down with a sharp one liner in a split second.

On one occasion when I was a teenager I went up to visit her at the sheltered housing complex in Greenock where she lived in her final years, with one of my (very many) cousins.

It was the early 90’s and I was sporting long dyed black hair shaved in at the sides, a cut off black t-shirt, black leather trousers and geta-grip boots like some kind of Pound Shop Trent Reznor from Nine Inch Nails.

Wee Nan took one look at me, turned to my cousin and said “Oor Ross is a lovely boy, but he disnae follow the fashions”. Suffice to say, my cousins and my mates dined out on that zinger for many years.  These days, every year on my Birthday my Mum still gets me gift tokens for Slaters Menswear and every year I make my annual pilgrimage into Glasgow to be fitted for a new suit.

Yet, Gran had a point, around the same time in an interview in the NME James Dean Bradfield from the Manic Street Preachers ripped into the folk-punk band The Levellers as he tried to articulate why the Manics look was so glam, consisting of silk scarves, leopard print furs and eyeliner, compared to the prevailing grunge and crusty style of the time.

Bradfield explained that coming from a working class mining community in Wales, he did not really want to dress down, or wear ripped jeans or appear to be an unwashed slacker. Bradfield goes onto say that he grew up in a culture where miners came home from the pit and wanted to be smart and well dress well.  

Maybe this is why the DIY fashion associated with punk rock never really took hold in the nightclubs of Glasgow or in our Scottish shipbuilding communities either.

My own Grandfather for example, was always immaculately turned out; he was the type of gent who wore a tie everyday when he went out and even wore a ‘casual tie’ around the house.

In his working life he had been a shipwright at the local boat builders yard here in Gourock, some days he’d come home from work with his overalls soaked through, covered muck and oil, so the last thing he wanted to do was look and feel shabby.

Indeed, at one time this was the best dressed country the world, not just the toffs but working people too. These days, many of us spend a relativity small amount of money every month, on cheap disposable clothing from places like Primark (rather than purchasing one singe new suit each year)   

Yet, why ever would we want to waste our hard earned cash on something apparently as superficial as fashion or pursue styles which give the illusion of so-called respectability?

I think the answer lies in how prim and proper Rosa Parks appears in those old photographers of her riding the Montgomery bus or how confident, sharp and upright Malcolm X looked. It’s about empowerment and aspiration and what’s wrong with that? Dressing, not for others but for ourselves - a class for ourselves.

Most of all, in my own working life as a Community Worker over the last 15 years I’ve been fortunate enough to support very many young men into employment within the construction industry.

It is a great privilege to watch young men mature from blowing their first ever weekly wage at the bookies, to giving their Mums a few quid for housekeeping, sticking something into their credit union accounts and yes, spending some hard earned cash on a fine quality shirt from Duo Menswear in Gourock, which I am reliably informed “sells the best of gear”.

So, perhaps Keir Starmer is onto something, as the late Jimmy Reid once said “only the finest things in life are good enough for the working classes”.