Friday, January 14, 2011
don't judge a bogan by its cover
Well it’s true. Back in the small town origins of old you were either a wigga or a bogan. My wigga days were fairly shortlived (although the cds continue to be played at random intervals – Dre 2001 will never get old) due to the unflattering nature of hoodies and the unfortunate terming ‘hoodrat’. So I returned to the classic small town white person exemplar.
So that’s the background. What has happened to that bogan child today?
Living in the city doesn’t mean entirely giving up on the things we left behind. I still love cars. I like driving fast. I’m SUPER stoked for the upcoming Nitro adrenalin-fest. I still listen to metal (mixed in with a rather varying taste of music that I enjoy today). It’s just not as obvious as it used to be. And I’m sure many of you out there are the same.
So what do we term these urbanised beasts? We wear the skin of the professional, but maintain the classic bogan traits. Our men may use hair and skin products, but that doesn’t mean the animal underneath has become extinct. Just aptly groomed.