10.04.06
Yesterday was a grim day. Rain drizzled relentlessly, and the sky was slate grey as I trudged around the backstreets of town, looking for somewhere suitable to make my first sacrificial burning, away from any CCTV or nosey passers by. Eventually I found an old Edwardian stairwell leading to a bridge, a frequent stopgap for those of no fixed abode, judging from the acrid smelling piss-stained floor. Perfect then, for this initial act of brand cleansing. Just like the tramps, I was about to piss on my own doorstep. After much hand wringing, I had chosen my most cherished piece of branded clothing to be destroyed; a pair of 'Adistar Runners'. They're not particularly rare or expensive; in fact they were free, given to me by the brand managers at Adidas UK. That's why they are so emotionally valuable.
The day I was called in to speak to Adidas for the first time was, as you can imagine, a jubilant one for me. I was editing Sleazenation at the time, writing endlessly on the trends of young consumer culture, working closely with brands whose product releases I regarded as important news. I remember climbing the stairs to their office, diligently attired head to toe in three-striped gear. My hands were sweating, my pulse racing, as if I were about to take tea with the Queen. The office was an Aladdin cave of merchandise; product posters signed by stars, limited edition trainers in glass boxes, rails upon rails of un-released clothing samples, and there, sitting in front of a giant logo on the wall, the brand managers of Adidas UK.
Exactly what went on at that meeting, I'll save for the book, but as I left, they offered me some free gear from the store cupboard. This cupboard was more like a full size room, with rows of iron shelves jam-packed with blue and white striped boxes of shoes. I could take my pick from the lot, and after several minutes of controlled hysteria, I finally chose the orange 'runners', which later became a proud memento of The First Time I Met The People At Adidas.
Stooping in the stairwell-come urinal, I took the shoes from their original box and wrapping, and began to douse them with lighter fuel (good brand, Ronson, I think they also do lighters). I had worn them throughout the day before, as a final send-off, diligently cleaning and Scotch Guarding them afterwards, as was my ritual with the things. They still looked pretty crisp, considering they were four years old. With one final loving stare, I took a match to the laces and the flames engulfed the shoes and box with a soft 'whoosh'.
Flames are the most hypnotic of things. I spent a good part of my youth sitting around fires on brownfield sites with my mates, tucking into two litre bottles of high strength Strongbow cider and ten Silk Cut. I would sit and stare at the flames for hours, their heat gently toasting my face, the soft crackling noises drowning out the drunken banter of my friends.
Standing over the burning trainers, I felt awful watching them curl inwards into black charred mush. What on earth was I doing this for? How did I get myself into this stupid book deal? And the telly? And the blog? Perhaps it wasn't too late to pull out? The flames were getting out of control, so I doused them with water (Evian since you ask), and a nasty chemical-smelling steam rose from the disintegrating plastic.
As the smoke cleared, my sense of alarm subsided and I breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps this was a good thing. My first step to a new life. The things you own end up owning you, and these stupid trainers had owned me for far too long. One day soon, I'm going to be free of all this. It's surely just a case of re-programming my mind. I can love myself and be loveable to others without these brands. I can work towards goals that stretch beyond material gain. I can learn to look at another person and make judgements aside from their badges of self. Or better still make no judgements at all.
The Crackberry is next.
Brands displayed/ consumed: Tsubi, Reebok, American Apparel, Bernhard Whilem, Ralph Lauren, Evian, Ronson, Ship Matches, The Observer, The Mirror, Citroen, Cannon.