17/10/2025
Good evening. Mojo is definitely returning. I can feel it in the air...
So, following on from my last post I promised a tale of love, heartbreak and bitter disappointment that will rival any Shakespearean tragedy. A story with no happy ending, just the brutal, cruel reality of life.
But first we have to go back in time, back to a time of hedonism and music, the second Summer of Love, we're going back to 1989.
In 1989, like thousands of others, I was a follower of a new religion, I was a raver. In fields, in clubs, in warehouses or under a motorway bridge, anywhere the music played, I would be there. Not only did I follow the music, I also followed the fashion. We all wore the same uniform, but some wore a uniform that was out of reach for a twenty year old office clerk.
There was a label that I wanted to wear so badly my eyes would bleed with envy and lust when I saw other people wearing it. My fellow Whooters, please feel my pain when I tell you why I didn't wear it, it was, oh hell, it was because I couldn't afford it.
It was the Destroy label by John Richmond.
Every item of clothing designed by that man was so utterly beautiful I would quite happily of given up a kidney for the chance to wear anything from his collection. If John Richmond had pooed on a tea towel and made a hat from it, had I the money I would have bought it and worshipped said poo hat at the altar in the Church Of Fashion.
And John Richmond is still designing clothes thirty five years later, my love for him is unwavering, his clothes are still eye wateringly expensive; and I still couldn't justify purchasing it. The original Destroy is now vintage and if you laid your hands on a rare jacket there wouldn't be a lot of change from a grand.
But then something wonderful happened.
In February it was my birthday and I had money to spend from my loved ones. I was scrolling through the website of TK Maxx. Gold designer section. Looking for sunglasses.
And there, out of nowhere, a single solitary picture. JOHN RICHMOND JEANS IN MY EFFING SIZE!!! And yes, I know some bright spark will say that you can get John Richmond in TK Maxx all the time, which is correct. But that's just the younger cousin version, the not quite there version, the affordable Designers at Debenham version.
These jeans were so beautiful I wanted to lick them, bring them home and marry them. They were the darkest of blue, beautifully cut and flared. I had visions of me pairing them with heels and looking like a supermodel striding round Sainsburys doing the weekly shopping with the crowds parting to look, stare and gasp with awe.
With a shaking hand I ordered them. And waited. Sleepless nights of excitement. Finally, finally, FINALLY I was going to own a piece made with God's own hands.
They came. I opened them. I stroked them. I whispered words of love. I took them out of the tissue paper and looked and......
I wanted to sob. What cruel torture was this? Was John Richmond some sort of sick, perverse monster?
I'm 5"2. Hardly a midget. But short nonetheless. These jeans were designed for a giantess. An Amazonian. A FREAK!!!!! A long legged gazelle like freak of nature. A tall BITCH!
And they couldn't have been taken up. I'd lose the flares. What was the point? Years and years of wanting. My disappointment was physically painful. Why? WHY? WHY!?
John Richmond.
Sir, you are a tosser.
Be careful what you wish for my friends.
True story.
Stacy x
And I forgot to return them in time.
They're for sale if anyone is interested.
They're quite long.
