Gaia Esmilla De Siena

the year is 2015. I’m wearing a battered black bomber jacket that was the uniform for any night out, whether it was at alibi or birthdays or previously visions, or later, upon finding out about SE, bunker or plastic people or caravans or bussey building (rip all of you lil clubs, what a time we had). ofc it’s a total black outfit, with that nike cap with the metallic swoosh - gosh, the chokehold that cap had on anyone from dalston to deptford and beyond for a while.

ofc big headphones (marshalls, which had just replaced a trusted pair of urbanears I carried everywhere between 2011 and 2014- the many colourways, that hipsterdom hopefulness reflected in everything from headphones to a colors show on youtube? odd one to pin as zeitgeist at the time), a gold-plated chain and pink hair, religiously coloured with bleach london home shampoo for £6.99, complete the look. In the background, some storage space from a shoot I must have been on or something.

Listening to: anything by hannah diamond, probably. I used to bump into danny harle at the off-licence all the time that year and thought I was living and breathing at the crossroad of culture.