Text your friends on the weekend, set up some time for trouble where you'll be hitting the streets and showing off those legs. These Missguided heels from Superbalist got me feeling fly and ready for anything. My cousins are visiting from overseas and I'm taking them out. An early dinner that turns into late drinks. A backdrop of lush greenery and perfect sunsets. We yell out for Daniel to come out of the bathroom and some other guy rushes out because that's his name too. We collapse into laughter before someone else jumps out from behind a corner, giving us a fright. It's our Daniel and now he's the one whose sides are splitting. We're pranksters, egging each other on. We play-fight with slushies from the petrol station and argue about who took the vape. We tease each other, trying to trick whoever is being the most gullible. They are my perfect pair and Cape Town is our favourite playground. May the mischief never cease.

Grimy nights and roughed up hair. I added just a dash of Toni & Guy's Sea Salt Texturising Spray to make mine more voluminous and messy. It's not 1977 anymore but the spirit of it is in the air. South African punks posing in Camden for beer money, thanks to them I know which hairsprays are mohawk friendly. You can't keep a subculture pure for more than a minute. Malcom McClaren was a stylist of sorts with the help of Vivienne Westwood and The Sex Pistols were cast as menacing peacocks, but it's the idea of a revolutionary attitude that really matters even if it was ironically sold to the masses. Lighting the fire within us was a beautiful mistake. You can't fake the feelings of the people who frequented the 100 Club or CBGBs and we're their children. We might grow up some day and realize that we're all nothin more than god damn trendy ass poseurs in conformist threads but I can promise you this: we'll never stop making trouble.