In the end, I really don't know what 'suedehead' was all about, other than that to us it was a fashion.  And I certainly wasn't conscious of 'mod' until at least 1974, and that was only because I knew one or two hairdressers and signwriters who came from the 'Tiles' era (albeit outside London, you understand.  But everywhere seemed to have a 'scene' in the 60s:  Nottingham was pretty hip, I'd reckon: at least according to Smith and Gorman).  These guys, though, looked more like Chris H's mates on the JS website: sideburns, facial hair; lots of velvet and expensive-looking loafers.  They drank shorts, smoked menthol cigarettes like St. Moritiz and were deeply into movies like 'Shaft': for the action as well as Isaac Hayes.  They were young, go-getting Conservative businessmen who lived in council houses and went to Spain for their holidays.  Their kids are most likely 'chavs', but 'chavs' with a couple of A-Levels. 

I used to like looking at the illustrations in the Knight book.  But I didn't like looking at the photographs.  Like the teddy boys in that book of black and white studies you sometimes see knocking around, these beauties seem to me to bear out Gibson Gardens' criticisms wonderfully well.  It must have been excrutiating for those guys who'd started something a bit tasty in 67-68 to see it hi-jacked, mugged and buggered by juvenile delinquents so swiftly.

Being ready for the 'Designer' era so early on strikes me as interesting for all sorts of reasons.  Nothing to do with Ivy League, but suggesting that Liverpool overplayed their hand on the 'casual' side ot things and that London retained the edge.  I guess we're talking big money here.  Which designers are we talking about? 
The 'smooth' had long since given way to the 'smoothie' and the 'soul boy' in my neck of the woods - and remember, Brideshead, God did not grant us all the privilege of being born within striking distance of Oxford and Regent Streets: we all had to travel or make do - and they were not, in my memory, 'designer' types - not then anyway, more concerned with their funny little 'tashes and keeping a crease in their trousers.  Oh, and contemplating that increasing beer belly...  They might have gone in for that Mike Reid/Ronnie Corbett look a bit later on.

By and large they were ignorant hohos, interested not in rare soul but in shagging some tart after 'Three Times A Lady'.

They were.

I liked Pierre Cardin for a while.  They did a nice needlecord button-down.  Our local butcher used to slip down to South Molton Street to buy Fiorucci.  I'll still buy Ralph Lauren if it's American made.  For school, I used to live in RL in the summer, M&S lambswool during the autumn and winter.  Practical stuff.

I never understood 'casual'.  Wearing Missoni on the terraces?  More cash than little grey cells!!

It was quite tribal.

I'd grown up listening to chart stuff like 'My Boy Lollipop', The Beatles, Sinatra, Perry Como, Henry Mancini compositions.  And always, in the background, there was Armstrong, Bechet, King Oliver, the MJQ, Ellington, Basie etc. etc. 

Crossover between primary and grammar school:  T.Rex were popular, but not especially with me.  The Chinn-Chapman stuff was much liked:  The Sweet (early stuff).  I was quite struck on Elton John.  Of course, Donny Osmond and David Cassidy were all over the place, but no lad ever admitted to liking them.  Elder sisters, brothers and cousins were listening to The Faces, Led Zep, some reggae and soul.  Prince Buster was very cool.  And, a year or two later, Max Romeo. 

Then it was on to Alice Cooper, Bowie and Roxy Music.  A mate of mine was a huge fan of Steve Harley.  Also Barry White. 

The soul fans became quite exclusive, though some of them were only playing at it. 

Pasty-faced would-be hippies listened to Pink Floyd, Yes, Genesis, even Tangerine Dream.  Queen were big.  I wanted to sample a bit of everything, but it was difficult.  A lad accused me of insanity for wanting to listen to Marvin Gaye.

The later, punk period was, if anything, worse. 

It's such a relief, in middle age, to be able to turn from Miles Davis to Sandy Rogers, or from Beethoven to UB40.  I began to develop a bit of a taste for Country, Cajun, Zydeco, rockabilly and Tex-Mex a few years back.  I still have fond memories of seeing the original Lynyrd Skynyrd back in '76.  I adore hearing guys like Jackie Wilson, can still tolerate the less boring bits of Van Morrison, and enjoy Little Steven even though I long ago gave up on Springsteen. 

Music should never be allowed to make captives of people.  My Dad once had a mate who was fanatical about the purity of New Orleans jazz.  He was missing out on so much other good stuff. 

Football, music and clothes.  That was it.  But even football allegience was loose, with the odd Derby lad supporting Man. United.  If you wanted to be cool, though, between 1971 and 1974 where I grew up, it had to be red tag Levis and a Fred Perry top.  Nothing else really mattered.

I wonder how One Trick Pony is these days. Anybody in touch with him ?

Robert Elms mentioned Rupert trousers and Solatio weave loafers last Thursday. I was more interested in the talk about the no. 17 bus route. Andrews caff in the Grays Inn Road got a mention. Good place. I was in there today. The paintings of double deckers do indeed have the Radio London frequency on their licence plates.