So, now I'm 27 years old and starting to gain a slight beer gut, can I still wear skinny jeans? It's that age old question that has risen from the dawn of rock and roll.
I'm not Mick Jagger, and I'll never be Iggy Pop, but is pouring myself into my girlfriend's figure hugging denim so wrong? I think I may have to start re-thinking my style.
It's the indie kids staple leg wear. We've all been to the Good Mixer on a Friday night sipping on our jack and coke, pretending to be the next big thing. We've sat at the Hawley Arms bar just hoping to see Miss Winehouse stumble through with a needle hanging out of her arm. But I'm not 18 anymore. My legs aren't as sculptured as they used to be, and my six pack is more like a crate. So when do we stop? Or do we have to stop?
Over the next few weeks I'm going to photograph the young and old, the fat and the thin, the indie and the ghetto, to see if they can pull off the style that hasn't faltered since the days of the Ramones, the skinny jean.
When I got run over by that lorry in September of 2009, I was forced to give up the skinny jean for nearly 9 months. Was there someone up there trying to tell me to put the tight trousers down? to switch to a straight leg? or god forbid, a baggy cut?
Hopefully I'll find the answer to this century old question on the streets of London, but until then, I'll keep growing my hair and wearing my skinnies until the dirty thirties creep up on me.
Spare change guv'ner?