Rimming around Old Street

Myself and a friend went out last weekend near Old Street and found ourselves as bit parts in the opposite of your conventional Western.  Definition: an Eastern.  (Perhaps directed by Clint Westwood). 

STAGE DIRECTIONS:
Saloon = Bar
Rodeo horse = Brightly-coloured bike
Cowboy boots = Brogues

I don't know when it happened, perhaps I slept through it, but some kind of natural disaster involving the Sun, a shitload of solar energy and an explosion occured in Shoreditch recently.  Thank God my eyes were shut at the time, unlike a vast proportion of eighteen to twenty-five year olds in the region, who have been left with irrevocable damage to their eyesight.  An error resulting in the obligatory wearing of protective, bullet-proof glass, NHS-style glasses.

Either that, or this tribe of yoot are just such ravers and night-owls that their sight-capacity has diminished to the point of no longer registering light over a wattage of 'Dim, Black or Neon.'  Maybe their ocular-muscles are over-strained from days spent pouring over Vice magazine.  Whatever, walking around with their heads on must be like being trapped inside a key-hole camera.

Yo man, you too should have gone to SpecRavers

There has got to be a reason for such outrageously shit eye-wear, really there must.  Because it is illegal in the UK for children to not be schooled up to the age of 16 years.  This will not likely be cut in the rest of the oncoming onslaught of by our coalition government, as it has stood generations in good stead to, on the whole, make informed judgements, educated guesses and use empirical reasoning.  From all of which, anyone would conclude that this 'look' is very silly indeed.

I don't know where it came from, or how long we will be safe from it, but I need someone to blame.  First point of call is, quite unimaginatively, the Good Lord Jesus Snr.  There is a reference in the Old Testament forecasting a grim dawning of the End Of Time where a plague of Locusts descend to ravage populations.  Nothing in the Good Book about plagues of kids donning 'Low-Cost' eyewear, so God is on this account not guilty.  He in probably thumbing through his receipts as I write, looking to get the magic beans back spent on us, over this latest craze to add to the Fall of Man.  Giving Man the chance to look this way of Mans own volition is probably more than a bit embarassing for him in the big Staffroom in the Sky. 

Not one of these Scenesters wearing said spectacles can have a genuine problem with partial-sightedness.  This is simply proven with the Science of Deduction|:-
               - If these glasses were actually aids for vision, then the wearer/wayfarer, would by proxy be able to see what they looked like with them on, and promptly take them off, afterwards checking about themselves to see if anyone had seen them.
               - If, on the other hand, these instruments are worn by a kid who does not rely on them to cross a road safely, and wearing them infact is detrimental to their field of vision due to the inevitable 'Blurring' we all know well from trying on our mates glasses (or from nailing a couple of bottles of vino of a Tuesday afternoon), then, ipso facto, they are worn as a 'Look' rather than 'To Look'.

The poor petals cannot actually see how much of a div they appear to others.  They are helpless to asssess themselves in this state.  Which in these terms, makes their 'Fashion Statement' a form of visual tourettes:- A silent but voilently offensive swear-word on their faces which we must either politely ignore, or tick off said tic.

Engaging in conversation with anyone wearing these double-glazed glasses is tricky if you get close enough for an encounter baring in mind that their experience of seeing you, takes a lot of effort.  If you have ever tried to see underwater, you might relate.  It is difficult to conduct a conversation with someone whose whole upper-head is in a conservatory, you might want to let them know that they can let the window down if the effort is making them perspire, or ask them directly if you could install a window box as really, there is not enough floral distraction about town.  

Not only can you not take anyone looking so daft that you could post them to that equally crappy TV programme, 'You've Been Framed' SERIOUSLY, you can neither take your eyes off of them.  From being a complete non-entity before, with perhaps a fairly feature-less face, with the addition of a pair of fat frames, they go from the emfeebled Clark Kent to the Superhero stud Superman.  Except the effect is obviously the other way round, with the metamorphosis merging at the confusing point of Superhero-Speccy geek.   So thick are the rims of these facial asbos that you cannot help but question for a moment, whether the wearers are taking the piss.  Before you realise the level you have stooped to to actually question yourself at the behest of this type.  No, they really are for real.  Gone are the days of actual, subtle, normal glasses.  In its place are these fixtures which undoubtedly have more personality than their innocuous wearer.  KIDDO, if you are going to make a statement then follow that up with some actual gravitas, be a bit of a hero, do a little dance.  Whatever, just do something with the entrance you have made for yourself in such silly eye-wear. 

If these kids didn't just stand about with about as much charisma as a coaster, then there would be more or less, a peace-pact.  It is the formidably lazy attempt at looking like 'Something' that is - interesting, a bit kooky, a little bit 'out-there', cool, scene - all of those adjectives that bring me out in a rash, that the wearers fail in their attempt.  Topping off a dress sense inspired by your last game of Consequences, with a pair of specs that speak louder than you- speak over you infact, so in effect, you take the part of its ventriloquist dummy, is just not on.