It was a summery day (well, it was to a Scot like me), so when I was changing clothes to head over to Melford Road, I elected to wear a pair of shorts (David M had also chosen to wear shorts, so it wasn't just me). I was therefore wearing the following:
1 pair denim shorts (quite short, but not hotpants)
The flowery top potatoprint kindly donated to my wardrobe, a kind of gypsyish thing quite in keeping with the season's fashion, I understand.
socks and unglamorous boots
My leather coat.
Now, I had anticipated perhaps one or two sarky comments, but even I, resilient as I like to think of myself, was utterly floored by the intensity of the response my choice of dress got from random passers by. Here is a list:
1)I have just left Forest Drive East, turning into Fairlop Road. I am wolf-whistled. I have never found this particularly upsetting, and standard procedure is ignoring it, so I do.
2)Later, I have just left Melford Road, and I am about to turn into Leytonstone High Rd. A man across the road is with 2 pals of his, all of whom are getting into a van. The man shouts across (and I quote verbatim) "Excuse me! Any chance of a shag? I'd fuck you!". I chuckle dismissively and walk on.
3)At almost exactly the same time, I emerge onto Leytonstone High Road, where a gang of young boys (about 12-13 yrs old I'd say) are on bicycles. They all start making comments, much of which I can't make out but are things like "Oh my God! What the fuck are you wearing?!!". I ignore them, of course. They follow me. They circle round me as I walk up the road, continually throwing these comments. They cycle ahead, and then wait for me, and start teasing again each time I walk past. I am getting seriously fucked off. The next time I start walking past them, I shoot a dagger look at one of them as I walk past. I am pleased to notice he looks terrified. Shortly afterwards they tire and bugger off.
4) A bloke in a van in the traffic says he'll take me home.
5) I emerge from Canonbury station and make a short walk to the nearby shop. Two younger lads (about 9?) are pissing about on a bike. They stare. One asks if I am cold. I explain that, on the contrary, I am feeling pleasantly warm, thank you. I enter the shop and buy stuff.
6) As I exit the shop the same young man bluntly observes "you've got fat legs". I am getting really really fucked off and can only manage "Thank you. You have a stupid brain." before flouncing off.
7) Nearly at Stef's by now. His house is only 5 mins walk from Canonbury station, so I am hoping that I can finally relax. No such luck. A bunch of teenage girls are doing the traditional standing around on street corners thing. They start sniggering as I approach, but I have already started crossing to the other side of the road, so it is too late to change my mind and deliberately walk past them. Which I begin to wish I had done, as comments such as "Oh my God! Look at her legs!"(guffaw) drift across me. One particularly noisome young specimen yells out at me that I have legs like a turkey and does a particularly bad turkey dance at me. I briefly consider crossing the road and showing her what my kickboxing legs can do, but then remember the "I shall never attack first in thought or in deed" pledge I made when I signed my licence, and merely wish I was packing a gun. Instead, I wink at her and move on.
What the fuck? Am I really going to have this much shit whenever I wear shorts? Jesus fucking H.