Shoreditch – How to blend in.

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Faggle Cock

A lot of people crave the acceptance of the uber-cool Shoreditch set. So much so that they go to extremes to create the coveted look.

Some guys just aren’t content with carrying a day-glo man bag, rolling their skinny jeans up to show some schmexy ankle, and making sure the jeans are so tight and slung so low that their arse crack is basically free range.

This guy has gone one step further and tried to literally blend in with the other twats and their surroundings. He has dyed his hair tree-green, donned a shameful royal blue shell-suit jacket, the same colour as the car he is stood in front of, and is now basically invisible.

Thanks to Lisa for the photo!

The bastard 1980′s children of medieval chic

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what the ?!?!

I think the title says about all I can muster for these two… Reminds me of those early 80′s low budget children programs where presenter’s dressed in bright clothes and acted insane, because thats what kiddies wanted and was nothing to do with the fevered, acid fuelled ramblings of the producers. Remember chock-a-block? I rest my case.


Shoreditch Twat

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I had to work for this one. Unfortunately he was too wily for me and I only captured the shoes/socks and jacket combo whilst missing out on the lovely bright orange necktie.

Nevertheless an atypical shoreditch twattite – also overhead were his critiques on fashion as I stalked followed him down the street. Obviously it’s the height of fashion to wear trousers that terminate a country mile above the ankle to show off your natty sockage. I just can’t fathom out the ‘dad’ shoes though. Just for your delectation here’s a tasty close-up.



The recession has hit Shoreditch

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nakedchicks1

Twats adopt emergency measures as recession hits the coolest bits of Shoreditch this week.

These two Shoreditch ladeez made sure they looked spiffing by wearing their Shoreditch twat staples, the unnecessary scarf, oversized bags and cheap plimsolls, while walking past RBS on Bishopsgate, despite the fact that recession cutbacks have forced them to eschew clothing. They must have had to spend their last pennies on crap 80s-revival electronica music or leg warmers.

Unfortunately for the banker behind them, he is too busy using his Wankberry – probably to text people how great he is because he still has his job – and misses two naked chicks walking past.

Flock of Seagulls

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A mishap with a bottle of Sun-In and clippers

A mishap with a bottle of Sun-In and clippers

Where do seagulls go to die?

It seems one has broken free from the flock and has come to the Twat Stomping ground, otherwise known as Shoreditch, to hang up the capri pants he clearly stole off his big sister. He must be suicidal at least to wear this get-up.

Starting from the top we have a hair “style” Kajagoogoo would be proud of, a heavy winter coat covering a scraggy untucked shirt which has seen better days, teamed with the 2009-ubiquitous men’s crop trousers (they’re flipping capri pants!), a flash of sexy bare ankle, and heavy boots. Of course, all this is nicely set off by a de-rigeur plastic bag, no doubt full of crack or whatever Shoreditch twats like to carry about.

A sartorial catastrophe of epic proportions. And in case you were wondering, it is a well known fact that seagulls are never seen at sea, except when they fly out there to die. We think it’s about time this one caught the train to Brighton.

I AM Russell Brand

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Some serious stealth photography was required for this one (hence the slight blurriness) on the circle line platform at Liverpool St station. 

I mused that this just might be an offspring of Russell Brand and well, Russell Brand (I’m pretty sure he loves only himself… and is inbred). Or perhaps he’s just an insufferable twat, in any case he was nectar for my newly acquired equipment for capturing souls (or ‘camera’ if you will). 

He entertained the tube carriage of tired, irritated commuters by talking very loudly about utter drivel to his posh friend so that everyone would overhear how great he was, grooming his carefully crafted hair often and evidently thinking he was the bee’s knee’s…. I salute you king of the bouffants (or should that be buffoons) so far.


Vintage gent

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Looking like Sir Chumley Imatoff on a day at the polo, this guy is smooth sassy talker who knows what he wants and pulls his socks up like a pro. This guy reeked of so much cool we had to hold our breath as we walked by.

1980′s fashion come-back bollocks, the 1890′s is where it’s at; the more vintage is it the better. Next week cod-pieces and suits of armour.

I looked up ‘plus fours’ in the dictionary today & I’m not proud.

It's vintage, so it's ok to look like a twat

Vintage twat

Not in shot: his ginger moustache

Blue Man

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Fresh from 1982.

Looking like the twisted offspring of Stevie Wonder and the Blue Man group (and courtesy of @icklekaskas).
I really am at a loss of how else to describe this one other than to point out the polish woman behind him, she’s not impressed. Although I will say I would’ve been happy if he was poppin’ and lockin’, or better stilling robot(ing) down the street.

Call grandma – she wants her shower curtain back.


Fly Posting – by JR Smartly

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Sporting the unlikely juxtaposition of woolen hattery and shorts + t-shirt you could be forgiven for thinking that this young oik is a bit confused.

Do not fret though readers as this is just an important fashion statement – something to do with juxtaposing society against the craziness of modern living set against the poverty of struggling east london artistes, or some other frippery. I fear I’m just too jaded and cynical to recognise truly expressive genius when I see it.

Feast your eyes until they can gorge no more.

Not in shot – their ‘clever’ poster.