IRON COOKIES FROM ISLAND NATIONS
My friend Nigel looked at the queue winding its way two blocks round the Rainbow Theatre and made his pronouncement: “Bored punks who never got into real New Wave, lost rockers and new young hippies.” The crowd—over 80% male, looked pretty ordinary to me.
IRON COOKIES FROM ISLAND NATIONS
LETTER FROM BRITAIN
By Penny Valentine
My friend Nigel looked at the queue winding its way two blocks round the Rainbow Theatre and made his pronouncement: “Bored punks who never got into real New Wave, lost rockers and new young hippies.” The crowd—over 80% male, looked pretty ordinary to me. No special sort of dress, unless jeans are a whole new uniform identity I’ve missed the word on, no long hair, no studded leather and not a bike to be seen. “Ah well,” said Nigel and nodded wisely to himself leaving me feeling that the second heavy metal outburst may well be upon us but it hasn’t got a visible identity yet. The boys queueing for Gillian tickets didn’t look like they’d give anyone sleepless nights...