It’s late Sunday afternoon at Sudbury Hill – not exactly the social hub of London: it’s more of a greasy hole lurking at the periphery of ‘Greater’ London. Waiting for a bus, my wandering attention is assaulted by a violent splash of colour on the other side of the road. A girl strides along the pavement wearing bright-red thigh-high boots. Incongruous? Just a little bit.
And this gets me thinking, ‘Where can she be going dressed like that?’
I can only conceive of two possible conclusions:
1. She is going somewhere where her outfit is the pinnacle of sartorial excellence – but on a Sunday afternoon in Sudbury…? So perhaps:
2. She always dresses like a slut.
The latter explanation seems most likely. But why do I instantly brand this girl a slut? Maybe I find the slutboots offensive because I’m so used to our British Sunday traditions: being a sort of religious nation, Sunday is the day of rest and on this day tradition dictates that people partake in relatively quiet, conservative activities such as Sunday roasts, sporting events and visiting elderly relations. Have these things become a thing of the past? Am I missing out on a new wave of exciting, and seemingly flamboyant, Sunday afternoon experiences in Sudbury? It seems unlikely. Maybe it’s simply because she looks like a slut.
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