No Turning Back, I'm a Skinhead, Great!
| No Turning Back, I'm a Skinhead, Great! |
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I will always remember the first time I saw some skins. I was 15 and coming out of the lobby of a hotel in London with my family and onto the streets. As we waited for a cab, right in front of us, four oisters with bright, cherry red docs, tight Levis, crombies and flights, moved in front of us as though they ruled the world. No fucking around! They were sharp, bald, and bad. |
| We got a cab, and all I could think of was the skins and how I must have looked to them- a long-haired, baggy-pants American wimp. For the first time in my life, I realized I had been sucked in to a rock and roll, hip-hop lifestyle by my friends in high school USA. |
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As we drove through the city, I began to get a strong feeling that forced me to realize that I too wanted to shave my head, put on the skin tight jeans, and those high, polished to the hilt boots. What pride they had! Hey face it, they looked like real guys. Not dandied up fags. |
| Of course, at this point I
didn’t even know what they were called. But next
morning I escaped from the folks, and wandered
down into Piccadilly Circus. And within 20min, I
started up a conversation with a skin in a pinball
parlor. And OI, I found out about boots and
braces, and what it meant to be a skin. Then and
there I made a promise to myself. No longer would
I be a "wanker," but a skinhead- Docs, tats and
all. And I’ve kept that promise ever since.
When I returned to the states I talked to my best buddy Feldman about the skins and their philosophies, their work traditions, their bald heads, and he said "Hey, let’s do it." As he borrowed his dad’s GI clippers and I started to get my first buzz-cut. Well, rad dreams became rad reality. |
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When we both looked in the mirror, we were bald as hell. I could only think this was it. No turning back. I was a skinhead. Great! |
| Getting the docs and braces in the states proved to be a hassle. But in NYC I found a skin-shop, 99X, and wow! Everything I would have ever needed to be a real skin- all it took was money. The first day of the fall term at school I awoke early, all excited about the thought of the "new me." Walking into school as a skin…how would my pals react? And mainly, my girlfriend Jen, what would she say? As I put on my Fred Perry, straight-leg Levis, tube socks, and then put my right foot into my 14-eyelet, black, steel-toed docs with white laces, that funny feeling started again. And by the time I had both boots on, and laced up as tight as I could get ‘em, and rolled up my jeans, and hefted my braces over my shoulders, and looked at the full length me- Oh shit, I was a sharp, proud skinhead. And as I walked to school, to the stares and comments of some of my schoolmates, I didn’t give a fuck because I was now a real skinhead. And when Jen saw me, and started to tease and rub my bald head…well, you know what happened- horny skin power. |
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I’m now 18 years old, a college
freshman, working in a car wash, and hell, it
still feels good every time I skin up. And hey I’m
still horny, still proud and still keeping the
faith.
So if you’re into the scene, or care to comment, email me at oidirk@hotmail.com -Dirk |
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| New Pics! Added 06/23/99 | |||
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