We proles came slightly under the influence of older art and design students around the age of eighteen.  France became interesting, as did - to others more than me - Tom Waits and that rather sleazy, beat-up style of his.  Goatees might have been considered.  Camus became the miserable bugger of choice, and I walked around for a month or two with an untipped Gitane stuck to my bottom lip; scowling surlily in the hope that some young woman might take pity on me and mother me.  None did.