Camden can still be mega lols

My first experience of Camden Town, came around the same time during Senior school in which I discovered the existence of vintage shops, and I thought it was wonderful. But, as everyone who has moved to London cos’ it’s cool knows, the place has been over for a long, long time.

 

That doesn’t stop a whole bunch of tourists, and even natives who still see a glimmer of charm in the old girl flocking there every day though, and it didn’t stop me at the sight of a little sunshine (but not enough for say, a park) heading on the Northern line for a browse of the innumerable weed paraphernalia, I <3 London tees and S&M gear this Friday.

Camden is one of those places where the atmosphere can be felt even ascending the escalators at the tube station. By that what I really mean is, pork-pie hats, studs, creepers, everywhere. For those of us who spend our days blissfully ignoring the areas that aren’t deemed the ‘trendy East End’ by Time Out, this can be a pretty daunting situation, inducing anxiety attacks that one might be mistaken as someone who takes Pete Doherty’s playing ground seriously.

 

Outside of those golden tube barriers, belies a mini alternative haven of over-priced markets, where everything goes. And most things that go are shit. Think Justin Bieber t shirts and Bob Marley sofa-throws. But to be honest, after spending the past 6 months in a state of culture-shock that no-one says cob outside of middle England, nowadays, I’m not even sure how I should react upon sighting a whole store full of plastic/transparent faux doc martens. That’s just London for you init.

 

Nonetheless, if the picture I’m painting is only reaffirming the decision you made at 16 to never return to London’s most popular bric-a-brac markets, there is one remaining tourist attraction worth leaving the SE’s for, and that is the Bang Bang chicken man.  After achieving 5mins of YouTube fame a couple of years back with his quirky baritone and slick chicken-selling style (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bhEMn3Nf5Zs), he remains a living LEG-UND. Honestly, this guy not only hands me and the bf free chicken but he also howls Moves Like Jagger over the ruckus of the market. Brilliant, someone that can relieve the pain of sitting on a chair that used to be a motorbike for 10 minutes.

 

N.B. If that doesn’t do it for you, the best escape route is a 10 min quiet walk down the canal to Primrose Hill.

First Kiss

The first kiss video seems to affect its audience in either one of two ways, you’re left wanting to pull your own genetically-superior stranger in for a cheeky snog after watching Tatia Pllieva’s 3 and a half minute advert, or like me, brought up on the back of the kind of modest British-ness that implores us to redden at any sign of pda, you feel an implicit impulse to be embarrassed at the whole idea of it. A marketing ploy that bares a striking resemblance to St Valentine’s Day itself.

From the get-go of the short-lived but massively popular Facebook sharing fling, I was fascinated that a black and white short film depicting super-hot models giggling as they kiss ‘for da first time’ had gained so much social-media attention, although I’m also fascinated by the popularity of The Notebook, which is essentially the same thing set to a rose-tinted 1940s backdrop. After I watch for the tenth time to try and ‘get it’ (for research purposes and not for the hot guy at the start), I feel frankly bored and numb, however, if you haven’t yet had your eyes opened by these sexy anons, may I suggest you skip straight to 1:45, for the most awkwardly neck-breaking kiss evz.

Going all out on this ever-pressing cultural issue to understand why people dig this sentimental shit, I watch the Story behind the “First Kiss” video on YouTube to investigate what the brand behind the sensation, LA-based clothing label wren, had envisaged. After a couple of the groomed but rugged models (one has tattoo sleeves and the other has big eyebrows, phwoar) describe the bittersweet furore of their YouTube kisses with oozing confidence, founder and creative director of wren, Melissa Coker suggests that the popularity of the film stems not from our fascination with watching good-looking people touch each other but from audiences abilities to relate their own butterfly-inducing experiences. Looking through the YouTube comments on the original video, it appears a lot of people do get a tingly sensation out of it; DesmondLetsPlays, the first commenter I clock, writes ‘It’s magic feeling to see this..:’)’. Now hey, as an 18 year old, perhaps I haven’t reached the prime of my life which will surely be brimming with hot sober allusive snoggin’, but as I recall my own first kiss, which, in stark contrast to the videos depressingly swooning vocals, was in such awkward silence I can still hear the sound of our slopping chops resonating, and would probably look more suited to crackling home footage than that captivating HD b&w, I just can’t see it.

It appears there is still hope for civilisation however, not everyone is experiencing heart palpitations from an ad for a brand which looks like Zooey Deschanel might regard its clothes as proper, with dozens of parodies appearing on Youtube – from dogs finding lurv at first sight to first hand-jobs and motorboats. My favourite of course, is Vice’s effort, paying 20 randoms off the street to acquaintance their tonsils with each other in front of the camera. Strangely enough, watching Vicky, who works ‘round this area, grip her match in for a good old peck, and even an old perv in a dressing gown purr, my skin doesn’t crawl from the same sheer amount of cringe as it does at the advert. This is what normal people look like when they kiss, this is raw, man.

Nevertheless, As Cent Uygur points out on The Young Turk’s discussion of the original video, however fraudulent and ultra-glossy the smooching in this short film may be, it is actually a marvellous tactic for a small-time brand to start gaining some status, for an advert, it’s proved itself to be a pretty good one.

Which brings me to ponder the idea that if strangers slurping keeps you awake at night, then hats off to you, even if it is via a ‘creative’ advert, which has its moments of being quite charming, in a society where almost everything has a money-generating purpose.

A night out at Goldsmiths

Here's a lil something I wrote for my Uni magazine, for those of you who don't know what Club Sandwich is, think Goldsmiths' weekly equivalent of the most dire freshers event you attended, that promised you 'tunes' and in turn gave you sti's, (although I don't think sandwich is getting that much action).

A night out at Goldsmiths – the demise of Club Sandwich

Arriving at Goldsmiths last September, scrunchie ‘n’ reeboks intact and ready for some arts school’ action, I became quickly disillusioned by what the crazy open day tour-guides had sold to us as the Universities’ no 1 night out. Admittedly, my ideas about Club Sandwich before were somewhat limited; I mean, I didn’t even realise that club sandwiches were really that big of a deal this side of the Atlantic, maybe it was a Goldsmiths thing?

Nevertheless, although losing my club sandwich v is now a somewhat hazy memory after several months on the 2-4-5 wine wave in the big bad city, I do distinctly remember a girl smoking a blunt whilst scoffing ‘she’s cool haha (not)’ at her fellow females to a backdrop of 90s shit-pop (you know who you are). That first awkward student night also paired me with a couple of the people whom I would later embark on my 2 month fresher’s journey with, everywhere but at Club Sandwich, so at least it was good for those life opportunities.

Anyways, after that banger of a night, the sandwich crowd gradually seemed to cool off towards draft essay doom and the only exciting aspect of a Goldsmiths big one became socialising with the local drug lords on the stretch’s tiny smoking area. So, I was altogether ready to throw in the towel and say that grinding to the noughties’ worst anthems with 10 other people on a Weds night was just not my thing despite the cheap booze before 10 (10!?), until Club Sandwich decided to rebrand itself, i.e. it moved to Thursday, and I decided to take another bite. I also spent all my money on a questionable trip to Spain this summer, have you seen Benicassim’s line-up? Sheesh.

For all of you who haven’t yet attended a Club Sandwich THURSDAY, no worries, here’s a bit of a heads up from me and the lads’ experience last week…Strangely enough, despite several cans of Captain Morgan’s n coke to gear up for those sandwich vibes and a vague premonition that a day-change wouldn’t necessarily be revolutionary, the event remains awkward as fuck. When you’re ushered in by 4 v stern bouncers, 3 hours of the almost empty dance floor and aura of extreme soberness from everyone who isn’t on it is almost pitiable.

Over several awkward cigs on that dingy little balcony, I ponder, why is it that even after the expectations of fresher’s have faded away and we’ve all splashed our government cash on chick chicken and a tenner a pop events, most of us continue to avoid the student union like it’s chlamydia even if just for a laugh?

A few reasons spring to mind but I find it appropriate to ask the DJ’s of C.S. themselves – the makers or breakers of any event – just for variety. I would’ve provided some pictures, however, the main guy was really seriously into his art, at this point playing Blink 182 and making hand gestures at me flashing the Kodak. The other is generally a nicer guy, maybe to the point of creepiness, but when I ask him why people don’t go to Club Sandwich (anymore?) he tells me that he went to Brunel which is a real party place and the people here are just too indie for that scene. When he asks me what I would change, I say: where’s the Missy Elliot/Craig David at; he disapproves. Fair game. A few rounds of blundering conversations with people who also have no idea why they are even at Club Sandwich later, and we decide to go get chips instead.

My answer to that pivotal question - perhaps Goldsmiths really is too liberated for a weekly event that keeps chugging along to sounds that most of us didn’t even like when we were 7, however, when I ask my friends about Club Sandwich, after the general opinion that the music, place and crowd are shit, comes the willing hopefulness that more students would go just to lively up their 15 quid budgeted week.

 I’m still of the opinion that the whole thing is an absolute shambles, but I do have faith in the idea that perhaps if DJ Brunel were to be overthrown by an overlooked campaign staged outside of the library, and the hench bouncers entertained, some enjoyment could be gained from Club Sandwich like the guys tagged on the Stretch’s facebook piccy’s seem to get - we too could make more one night only course bff’s.

19/03/2014