Skinny Jeans Have No Place On These Thighs
The Wine House
Izzie, Bridget and I stood staring at The Wine House, and we were all thinking the same thing. Izzie has the guts to say it.
"Oh my God, this is the most exciting thing ever! We might actually get to meet Citizen Deranged!"
"If we ever get inside we might," says Seb sourly, slamming the car door and brushing past us to get inside.
He doesn't even look back. We're on our own now.
Bridget looks rather nervous suddenly, as though for the first time she's wishing her brother hadn't left her by herself. Not that he's usually clamouring to be around her but you know what I mean.
The three of us walked silently up the steps of The Wine House and Izzie pushes the door excitedly. I've never been in a pub or a bar before and the second I walk in I'm hit by the waft of smoke. It's so pungent and strong that I half want to go outside again but Izzie grabs hold of my arm and hisses in my ear, "Ella, don't ruin it! Be cool."
So I pretend I'm cool and we sidle on up to the bar. There is loud rock music playing over the sound of the chatter and laughter of the people already in. They all suddenly look far older than we are and I get all worried that we're going to get chucked out. Or 'flicked' as Izzie says it's called.
Thankfully, Bridget takes charge. With all of her cockiness in overdrive, she bats her eyelids at the barman and asks him for three glasses of vodka and diet coke. I feel myself getting hot as he glances at us, checking to see if we're old enough. Which we are SO clearly not.
Then Bridget does something extraordinary. She leans over the bar and almost subtly pulls down her top, asking him to put extra ice in one of them.
And it works! We get served although I have to admit that even with my first sip of alcohol in my stomach I don't feel a whole lot braver. I even feel a little sick. Not 'I'm about to vomit' sick, but the nervous kind of sick.
Izzie and Bridget saunter coolly over to the one empty table in the corner and I follow them, sipping my drink through my straw gingerly. It doesn't taste overly strong but that might be because it's my drink that has the extra ice. There are no chairs so we have to stand. But this is OK because it makes it easier to look around the place.
The walls are all covered in newspaper articles and signed photos from bands that played here when they were relatively small and then came back for a special gig. It seems like the Wine Bar has had several famous faces here at one time or another. But of course none of this matters to Izzie. She's too busy blathering on to Bridget about Citizen Deranged.
"Do you think they're here yet?" Izzie gushes. She keeps looking over at the door, as though expecting them to walk straight in through it.
"They'll probably come in through the back Izzie," I say grumpily, "They're a band remember Izzie? They won't want to mix with the punters will they?"
Using the word 'punter' made me feel more grown up.
"Well actually, Seb says that most of the people who play here do just walk in the front and have a drink," pipes up Bridget, putting an invisible hose onto my bonfire. "They like the atmosphere of the place. It is pretty cool isn't it? Oh look, Seb's band are doing their sound check. I think that means they'll be playing in a little while."
We all look over to the tiny raised stage where Seb and his four band mates are setting up their amps. Seb isn't the only one oozing coolness. They're all hip looking, two with very long hair and one with an eyebrow and lip piercing. The one with the piercings was the best looking one, aside from Seb. He had blonde hair that hung around his face in layers and he was almost feminine looking in his beauty.
"That's Marcus," Bridget tells me, seeing that I'm staring at him. "He's the lead singer. He's pretty good but I think he's a little unreliable."
"How would you know?" asks Izzie suddenly rather sharply, practically glaring at Bridget. "You've never been out with him!"
"I meant, unreliable in the band, idiot," replies Bridget coolly. "Like, he sometimes forgets when they're rehearsing and once he was late to one of their sets by four hours! Seb almost killed him! I remember him shouting at him for nearly an hour afterwards when they were all back at ours."
"Oh." Izzie looks slightly embarrassed and goes back to watching the door for the wonderful Citizen Deranged.
"So Ella," says Bridget, smiling, "Do you think he's hot?"
"Well . . . yes," I admit, feeling my cheeks going pink.
"He's pretty nice. He's the friendliest out of Seb's band. He always chats to me in the kitchen when he's over. Why don't you go and chat to him? Later, I mean, after the set."
"Oh yeah, right!" I laugh. "What exactly am I supposed to say?"
"Anything you like. I told you, he's a nice guy. Although he might be a little bit old for you."
"Age doesn't matter when you're in love!" Izzie suddenly interrupts, sounding all sharp again.
"I'm not in love!" I insist but they're not listening.
"What are you on about?" Bridget asks, raising her eyebrows at Izzie.
"Well, the guys in Citizen Deranged are all like twenty three and I'd still go out with them!"
"Lucky them," Bridget replies dryly. "Iz, I don't want to sound harsh, but they're not going to be interested in a little school girl. Even one with such nice shoes - where did you get those from?" Bridget asks curiously, making a vain attempt at changing the subject.
But Izzie is not one to be steered away once she's got a bee in her bonnet about something
"I'm more than just a little school girl," she snaps hotly. "I know their music like the back of my hand and I know for a fact that they don't think that age matters either. They say so in one of their songs!"
"Ooh, big deal!" says Bridget laughing. "Seb writes loads of stuff in his songs and he's the first to say that a lot of it isn't true."
"Look, just because you have a brother in a band doesn't mean you know all about music Bridget!" Izzie says primly. "Besides, Citizen Deranged are a proper band, not just a bunch of school boys messing around with guitars and synthesizers!"
"Izzie!" I say in surprise because it was so rude. I mean, granted I'd never heard Seb's band before but to write them off before she'd even heard them was pretty mean. And slightly hypocritical since that was what her Dad had done to her about stupid Citizen Deranged.
Luckily Bridget isn't the sort of girl to take offense easily. Instead, she just smiles and says, "Fine. Izzie, if you think you can get with someone from Citizen Deranged, then go ahead. Prove me wrong. But if you are wrong, then you have to buy my lunch for a week."
"OK," says Izzie, extending her hand so they can shake on it, "Same to you!"
"Fine," Bridget shakes her hand, with a quick private grin to me which I smile briefly at. Bridget and I have a private joke about Izzie's eating habits. Or rather, the lack of them.
It's so unfair. Izzie may not eat that much, but Bridget eats loads and she's almost as tiny as Izzie. I mean, she does go to karate once a week but that's it! It's not like she's going to the gym every morning and running every day after school. I eat the same amount as Bridget and yet I'm grotesque compared to the two of them. Not even just the two of them.
As I look around I see all of the other girls in here, with their perfect white teeth and flat tight tummies and thin thighs. It's not just their bodies that are better, it's their clothes.
They're all wearing skinny jeans and converse and heels and bright coloured tops and band hoodies. The Indie vibe is raging in here and yet I seem to be completely apart from it all.
I feel so stupid in my purple corduroy trousers and butterfly top. I wrap Bridget's Camden black scarf closer around myself so the butterfly is covered.
Izzie and Bridget look great, they could have been hanging out here for years. They're both completely at ease, except that Izzie keeps looking around at the door, seeming to be completely unphased by all of her other girls in here. Not like me.
It's weird but I find myself looking at girls more than boys half the time. I'll stare at a girl and instantly be comparing myself to her, asking myself, 'Am I fatter than her? Is she fat? How does she look so good?'
I know it's stupid to be so silly about the way I look but I just can't seem to help it. Not when the whole world is just effortlessly more stylish and cool than I am.
"Oh my God, this is the most exciting thing ever! We might actually get to meet Citizen Deranged!"
"If we ever get inside we might," says Seb sourly, slamming the car door and brushing past us to get inside.
He doesn't even look back. We're on our own now.
Bridget looks rather nervous suddenly, as though for the first time she's wishing her brother hadn't left her by herself. Not that he's usually clamouring to be around her but you know what I mean.
The three of us walked silently up the steps of The Wine House and Izzie pushes the door excitedly. I've never been in a pub or a bar before and the second I walk in I'm hit by the waft of smoke. It's so pungent and strong that I half want to go outside again but Izzie grabs hold of my arm and hisses in my ear, "Ella, don't ruin it! Be cool."
So I pretend I'm cool and we sidle on up to the bar. There is loud rock music playing over the sound of the chatter and laughter of the people already in. They all suddenly look far older than we are and I get all worried that we're going to get chucked out. Or 'flicked' as Izzie says it's called.
Thankfully, Bridget takes charge. With all of her cockiness in overdrive, she bats her eyelids at the barman and asks him for three glasses of vodka and diet coke. I feel myself getting hot as he glances at us, checking to see if we're old enough. Which we are SO clearly not.
Then Bridget does something extraordinary. She leans over the bar and almost subtly pulls down her top, asking him to put extra ice in one of them.
And it works! We get served although I have to admit that even with my first sip of alcohol in my stomach I don't feel a whole lot braver. I even feel a little sick. Not 'I'm about to vomit' sick, but the nervous kind of sick.
Izzie and Bridget saunter coolly over to the one empty table in the corner and I follow them, sipping my drink through my straw gingerly. It doesn't taste overly strong but that might be because it's my drink that has the extra ice. There are no chairs so we have to stand. But this is OK because it makes it easier to look around the place.
The walls are all covered in newspaper articles and signed photos from bands that played here when they were relatively small and then came back for a special gig. It seems like the Wine Bar has had several famous faces here at one time or another. But of course none of this matters to Izzie. She's too busy blathering on to Bridget about Citizen Deranged.
"Do you think they're here yet?" Izzie gushes. She keeps looking over at the door, as though expecting them to walk straight in through it.
"They'll probably come in through the back Izzie," I say grumpily, "They're a band remember Izzie? They won't want to mix with the punters will they?"
Using the word 'punter' made me feel more grown up.
"Well actually, Seb says that most of the people who play here do just walk in the front and have a drink," pipes up Bridget, putting an invisible hose onto my bonfire. "They like the atmosphere of the place. It is pretty cool isn't it? Oh look, Seb's band are doing their sound check. I think that means they'll be playing in a little while."
We all look over to the tiny raised stage where Seb and his four band mates are setting up their amps. Seb isn't the only one oozing coolness. They're all hip looking, two with very long hair and one with an eyebrow and lip piercing. The one with the piercings was the best looking one, aside from Seb. He had blonde hair that hung around his face in layers and he was almost feminine looking in his beauty.
"That's Marcus," Bridget tells me, seeing that I'm staring at him. "He's the lead singer. He's pretty good but I think he's a little unreliable."
"How would you know?" asks Izzie suddenly rather sharply, practically glaring at Bridget. "You've never been out with him!"
"I meant, unreliable in the band, idiot," replies Bridget coolly. "Like, he sometimes forgets when they're rehearsing and once he was late to one of their sets by four hours! Seb almost killed him! I remember him shouting at him for nearly an hour afterwards when they were all back at ours."
"Oh." Izzie looks slightly embarrassed and goes back to watching the door for the wonderful Citizen Deranged.
"So Ella," says Bridget, smiling, "Do you think he's hot?"
"Well . . . yes," I admit, feeling my cheeks going pink.
"He's pretty nice. He's the friendliest out of Seb's band. He always chats to me in the kitchen when he's over. Why don't you go and chat to him? Later, I mean, after the set."
"Oh yeah, right!" I laugh. "What exactly am I supposed to say?"
"Anything you like. I told you, he's a nice guy. Although he might be a little bit old for you."
"Age doesn't matter when you're in love!" Izzie suddenly interrupts, sounding all sharp again.
"I'm not in love!" I insist but they're not listening.
"What are you on about?" Bridget asks, raising her eyebrows at Izzie.
"Well, the guys in Citizen Deranged are all like twenty three and I'd still go out with them!"
"Lucky them," Bridget replies dryly. "Iz, I don't want to sound harsh, but they're not going to be interested in a little school girl. Even one with such nice shoes - where did you get those from?" Bridget asks curiously, making a vain attempt at changing the subject.
But Izzie is not one to be steered away once she's got a bee in her bonnet about something
"I'm more than just a little school girl," she snaps hotly. "I know their music like the back of my hand and I know for a fact that they don't think that age matters either. They say so in one of their songs!"
"Ooh, big deal!" says Bridget laughing. "Seb writes loads of stuff in his songs and he's the first to say that a lot of it isn't true."
"Look, just because you have a brother in a band doesn't mean you know all about music Bridget!" Izzie says primly. "Besides, Citizen Deranged are a proper band, not just a bunch of school boys messing around with guitars and synthesizers!"
"Izzie!" I say in surprise because it was so rude. I mean, granted I'd never heard Seb's band before but to write them off before she'd even heard them was pretty mean. And slightly hypocritical since that was what her Dad had done to her about stupid Citizen Deranged.
Luckily Bridget isn't the sort of girl to take offense easily. Instead, she just smiles and says, "Fine. Izzie, if you think you can get with someone from Citizen Deranged, then go ahead. Prove me wrong. But if you are wrong, then you have to buy my lunch for a week."
"OK," says Izzie, extending her hand so they can shake on it, "Same to you!"
"Fine," Bridget shakes her hand, with a quick private grin to me which I smile briefly at. Bridget and I have a private joke about Izzie's eating habits. Or rather, the lack of them.
It's so unfair. Izzie may not eat that much, but Bridget eats loads and she's almost as tiny as Izzie. I mean, she does go to karate once a week but that's it! It's not like she's going to the gym every morning and running every day after school. I eat the same amount as Bridget and yet I'm grotesque compared to the two of them. Not even just the two of them.
As I look around I see all of the other girls in here, with their perfect white teeth and flat tight tummies and thin thighs. It's not just their bodies that are better, it's their clothes.
They're all wearing skinny jeans and converse and heels and bright coloured tops and band hoodies. The Indie vibe is raging in here and yet I seem to be completely apart from it all.
I feel so stupid in my purple corduroy trousers and butterfly top. I wrap Bridget's Camden black scarf closer around myself so the butterfly is covered.
Izzie and Bridget look great, they could have been hanging out here for years. They're both completely at ease, except that Izzie keeps looking around at the door, seeming to be completely unphased by all of her other girls in here. Not like me.
It's weird but I find myself looking at girls more than boys half the time. I'll stare at a girl and instantly be comparing myself to her, asking myself, 'Am I fatter than her? Is she fat? How does she look so good?'
I know it's stupid to be so silly about the way I look but I just can't seem to help it. Not when the whole world is just effortlessly more stylish and cool than I am.
♠ ♠ ♠
The Wine House was originally going to be named the Rhinestone Rock House.Citizen Deranged is a contemporary Indie band. The name is loosely based on a Muse song called Citizen Erased.
Bridget bites her nails.