CHAZ DAD, or: SINCE WHEN DID MY *DAD* BECOME COOL?ILLUSTRATION: CHAZ DAD BY NIKKI HOWES




EVERY SATURDAY MORNING
he’s the first one cruising the charity shops, pockets bulging with change for vintage threads, paperback trash, 1950’s soda bottles, and rare goods to sell on e-Bay to fund his next outing.

THE OTHER DAY
I received an entire vintage black-and-yellow tea service so gloriously garish that it lives on my mantelpiece rather than being used. I’m now working on him for his original Eighties aviator glasses. A question nags at me though, and it’s this: When did my Dad become Cool? The answer? When Cool became my Dad.

FORGET HARRY ENFIELD'S 'EMBARRASSING DAD': Daddy Cool sussed out that Staying In Is The New Going Out (which was the New Staying In, which was the New Going Out) while we were swigging cans of White Lightning in the park in miniskirts and puffa jackets.


BLAME BRITPOP
and the god-awful moniker of Cool Britannia. All that harking back to Mods and rockers and stuff your dad did the first time round. Borrowing the “look” from Dad’s heyday; mop-top haircuts, bulls-eye t-shirts, vintage jeans and brown leather blazers all came into their own.

BUT OUR DADS WERE THERE doing it the first time round. When the Beatles were the biggest influence on the 'Greatest Band On the Planet' (oh, yeah, Oasis, ri-ight), our dads were looking at their vinyl collection and smiling like men who’ve spent the last decade listening to Kylie, Jason and Big Fun. Their swinging youth is our fashion plundering playground.

DADS HAVE ALWAYS been into charity shops, with the prudence of men who work hard all day to see their money squandered by squalling brats. Magazines like Cheap Date and articles in the Sunday Times’ Style section are wasted on them, preaching to the converted. Old enough to know what they like and not give a damn about when anyone thinks of it, Daddy Cool’s attitude is the envy of fashionista style-mag jaded journos.




Daddy Cool’s attitude is the envy of fashionista style-mag jaded journos.

 

THAT'S THE SECRET TO DADDY'S COOL. He doesn’t even know he’s cool. He’s doing his own thing and having a ball doing it. As the vacant epicentre of fashion looks once more for something real to sucker onto, leech-like, it fixes its beady eye on him. And when fashion moves on, and we’re all dancing to Mum-pop or wearing tin-foil romper suits, Daddy Cool will still be doing his thing and keeping it real for all us fickle little fashion babies.



WORDS: JOANNA PINTO
ILLUSTRATION: NIKKI HOWES

SKINT STYLE: NOT MANKY, JUST SWANKY!



W H E R E ?
Unspecified charity shop, North Woolwich

W H E N ?
July 2004.

W H A T ?
Oh my god, it's a Le Creuset casserole pot. Goddamn, they sure are chaz-blind in South London. Don't they know quality? Don't they know this shit costs £70 brand new? Don't they know... oh my god, it's full of old, mouldy, casserole. YUMMY! *does sick*

Everyone's got a thrift trauma... what's yours?
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It's a booty crawl down South London's thrifting hotspot

T H R I F T   F A C T I O D

Then again, there's always BARTERING. Have a clothes swap in your front room and give the leftovers to charity. No cash involved. Revolution!!!!

 

 

 

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