A Product Of My Decade

Thursday 18th March 2010, 7pm, 'Poo Pub' Hostel - Lake Mahinapua.

Tonight we have arrived at an infamous stop on the Kiwi Experience route, the 'Poo Pub', so called because of the area where it resides, MahinaPUA. I was about to write 'town where it resides...' but then decided that one pub and 2 houses does not constitute a town, or even a map-worthy place really. The Poo Pub is run by a gnarly, bearded old 80 something year old called Len in a possum skin gilet and a fondness for shouting too loudly, 'don't have sex in the laundry shed kids, last pair who did that got filmed on CCTV and I put it on youtube'. He may not know much about personal grooming, but technology sure ain't evaded him. His only staff member, a barmaid called Lynn, is heavily tattooed, faintly moustached, missing a couple of teeth and has bigger biceps and a deeper voice than Frank Bruno - they make them tough out here in the middle of nowhere. The West Coast is a rough landscape full of rough people.

I had a mini tantrum today. Not a full blown strop, just a momentary need to throw my toys out the pram. This is because part of the Poo Pub extravaganza is an evening of fancy dress. Call me a killjoy if you want, but I'm not a huge fan of costume parties. I like clothes, I especially like my own clothes, and I do not like having to spend money on things I won't wear again. There have been a few exceptions to this in the past, because I do really love dressing up as celebrities: Victoria Beckham, Lady Gaga, Marilyn Monroe, Lily Allen... and I make a particularly impressive Lindsay Lohan. The theme of our party tonight is quite frustratingly vague, 'I Can't Believe You're Wearing That'. The pinnacle of my annoyance and toy throwing happened earlier today when I stood in a charity shop in the town of Greymouth, threw a tattered old clown waistcoat on the floor, stamped my feet and declared, 'I've been to Uni and spent 3 years of my life in costume, I'm over this! Raaaaaarrrrrrr.'

But I've calmed down and dressed up, sat on my bunk bed waiting for the festivities to begin. What am I wearing? I decided to put on whatever the hell I wanted, all items from my own backpack but things that I wouldn't usually get away with wearing together. A blindingly bright green and pink sports bra, a baggy crop top with roses all over it, a denim and tie dye hooded jacket reminiscent of PJ and Duncan in Byker Grove, bright blue Rayban Clubmaster sunglasses, the biggest and tackiest medallion necklace ever created, black leggings covered in a gold and lilac floral design, and of course, my 80's Dream Shoes - the neon fantastic Nike hitops. Just to top it off my curly hair is high on my head in a side ponytail, I have blue glitter on my eyelids, and I've caked on some shocking pink lipstick. I look like I'm going to a Cyndi Lauper gig, 20 years ago. Tantrum over, I'm happy as a pig in shit. I must be a true child of the 80's, because only clothes this ridiculous can make me this content.