Deep down I know that being a rebel has nothing to do with it. Actual defiance is harder to fake
Sometimes in life you need to do certain aesthetic things to prove something about your identity. Maybe it’s hiding the greys in your hair by going peroxide blond. Maybe it’s getting a massive Black Flag tattoo on your belly. For me, it was doing something that I waited almost 30 years to commit to, an idea rooted in the kind of outdated rebellion that I probably picked up from a George Michael music video – it was getting my ears pierced.
I wasn’t allowed to get my ears pierced until I turned 13, at which point I decided that it wasn’t cool any more (or at least that was the story I was sticking to – my dad had his ear pierced, so it didn’t hold big rebel energy for me anyway). It was only last year at the age of 29 that I decided it was time to take the plunge. Despite recommendations from chic workmates about studios that “design your ear” for you, whatever that means, I made an appointment at a cheaper, but still clean and respectable beauty centre, for my piercing.
Had I really thought that something as shallow as a new earhole would re-energise me?