We were standing in the West corridor of the second floor of Bancroft Hall*. Jess D___, the tall, friendly girl from Portland, Oregon (who had gotten me stoned for the first time from a little wooden pipe with a nug she'd smuggled on the the plane from home) was saying, "I want a haircut. An indie haircut. I want a bob, but like longer in the front than the back, or like with short bangs and then dyed black." Jess did get that "indie haircut," the bob with long strands in front. She listened to "indie music," Modest Mouse and Cat Power and Elliott Smith and Bright Eyes. She drank "indie coffee," wore "indie, vintage clothes," and "indie, vintage glasses." She had a Dandy Warhols poster on her door. Essentially, Jess was a wealthy girl from the suburbs of a place where "indie" was premium, king, cool, central. She was enamored of the twenty-somethings that she spied at record stores and on the street. So she mimicked them and then talked about it in a starry-eyed, uncool sort of way, peppering sentence after sentence with that (now and then odious) word,"indie."
Personally, I used no slang for it. For the 1970s soccer jerseys as dresses and cowboy boots of 2001. For the two white leather roses, 1940s "shoe clips" that I affixed to dresses and headbands and canvas totes in 2002. For the ripping and dyeing and ribboning and pinning and silkscreening of each item I bought in 2003, whether from Macy's Juniors or Goodwill or Barney's. For the messiness of my hair. For the big, plastic and gold and paste 80s jewelery and red and black nails. I made these choices with ease, with youth-y cockiness, and with a craftsy, cobbled air that ranged from a little twee (in 2002-3) to a little twee meets Less Than Zero (2003-4) to a little death to twee/heavy metal groupie/junkie (2004-7).
Last week, a friend used the term "D.I.Y." to describe his band. He said their sound was too "D.I.Y." for Memphis audiences. I understand that this term is being used to describe some kind of punk music that the kids like? I think? And maybe it's taking on the vicious generality of the late 90s/early aughts's "indie" or (lord save us) the elusive "hipster." Like, "indie" (and unlike "hipster") it's descriptive, a reference to some very naive, very natural (and American?) striking out. It immediately puts me in mind of the little recyclings and adjustments that I compulsively made to each object or item of clothing I came into as a teenager. It immediately puts me in mind of getting older (a common topic on this here blog--apologies). These days, I am less comfortable making my funny mark on things, or wearing holes and stains and tatters. I feel the need for fine things, for things I absolutely cannot make myself, for things I must seek out and consume.
But it's nice when you think about it, this descriptive mot. It's a wonderful thing about the youth that they want to do it for themselves, do it for free or cheap, do it to look wrong (not "right"). I suppose I was "D.I.Y." and so was Jess and so were plenty of people before us and so they are now and so they will continue to be. I'll settle into this luxe-er phase of life quite happily (when I make some money?), but I'll have nothing but love for the self-imprinted rags of old. Sigh.
*Able's prep school dormitory
