Mugshots

BY Fiona Killackey

Life isn’t fair. Not everyone donning a vintage leather bomber, matte red lipstick and the latest ’do from Michael at Little Buddha will win gold in the Scenester Olympics. Then again, not everyone who shops at Savers leaves with a bargain and not everyone’s face is suited to a dark-rimmed glasses. It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to achieve such things. Being cool is a currency and taking the gold is akin to opening up a scummy bar in a scummy laneway and charging top dollar for lukewarm Carlton Draught. Suddenly everyone wants to know you, invite you, pash you, be you. Get maximum impact with minimal effort and advertise your contention for the gold medal via a full-colour, full-length pic in the social pages. Luckily in a one-horse, two-newspaper town like Melbourne, this is as easy as following a 7-step program…

STEP 1. Unbrand yourself. You’re too cool to be categorised by a brand. Prior to an event take scissors to that pile on your floor and remove any labels/logos or size tags. If anyone asks it’s vintage or your dad’s or something you found on the couch after a party. You don’t follow fashion. You dress in whatever you feel like wearing at the time.

STEP 2. Prepare to look effortless. Preening is for preppies. Look as if you don’t give a shit about your appearance and that getting noticed is the last thing on your mind. If you’re male, stop shaving two days before the event. If you’re female, put your makeup on the night before and wrestle your pillow for the desired effect. Deodorant is optional.

STEP 3. You’re just here for the drinks. At all times remain nonchalant. You don’t even know what the event is for, you don’t know the label/artist on show and you didn’t even know it was on tonight. No one needs to know you begged your media friend to get you on the door list, that you spent your tax return on your outfit and that it took 75 minutes to perfect your fringe.

STEP 4. Hang with the cool kids. As soon as you arrive at an event seek out people in bands, artists, creatives or anyone with a studio above the Carlton Hotel or in the Nicholas Building. Tatts are cool and since every second scenester is sporting a clean – one appointment only – sleeve these days it shouldn’t be hard to associate yourself with skin ink. Remember these people don’t need to become friends; you just need to converse long enough for someone else to notice.

STEP 5. Frame yourself. Take a note from Corey Hart’s styleguide and wear your sunglasses at night; people will either think you’re a joke or the mysterious New Kid on the Block worth speaking to.

STEP 6. Follow the Flash. Social photographers, like all of us, want to get home from their job as quickly as possible. Unlike the journalists who accompany them they rarely get a free drink, a goodie bag or some young gun chatting them up. Do everyone a favour and (subtly) follow the flash. You get your pic in the press. They get paid.

STEP 7. Deny you tried. Lucky this is on a wall so there’s no chance friends can find sections highlighted in your Moleskine. If word gets back to your mates you stalked a photographer, laugh it off, deny everything. Buy one copy of the paper and hide it. Take it out when lacking motivation.

Winning isn’t everything. Just like the popularity of a keffiyeh two years ago, the brilliance of a gold medal fades in time. Being a scenester is a transient state of mind and a crown that smashes as easily as a pair of rip-off Ray-Bans. You may well get free drinks, a nod of acknowledgement from the cool crowd and the occasional invite to a warehouse exhibition opening. But remember, all that glitters is not gold. You will not become a better person, you will not be remembered and that sought-after image in the newspaper will most likely end up framing the inside of a friend’s kitty litter tray within hours…