You’re Not Going Out Like That! #4 – Dog Collars

Necklaces have been used as embellishments since neolithic times. From the ancient Egyptians to the Victorians, cultures all over the world have incorporated neck-wear for decoration and are still seen an indicator of status, identity and position.

Punk’s necklace was the dog collar.

DogCollar Pic Martin-Townsend-on-New-Romantic-Fashion-and-UK-fashion-539054

Unlike traditional jewellery, like your Mother or Auntie Pat would wear to parties, the dog collar immediately smacked of bondage, of low status, and even slavery, and that was the point. Punk had somehow played another trump card, it was another thing that was the opposite of what it was supposed to be. It was anti-jewellery.

As luck would have it, there was no need for me to go as far as Kensington Market or the Kings Road to get myself fully kitted out with the latest thing in Punk’s expanding fashion choices – Nope, I wouldn’t even have to leave the house. I knew that there was a dog collar somewhere in the back of the cleaning cupboard, in one of those boxes of useful things neatly stacked under the shoe polish and specialist dusters. My parents had bought the collar for the dog, but then decided that collars were cruel and so had splashed out on a harness for it instead. So, the collar had sat in a box unused, unworn, unloved, really just waiting for Punk to find a use for it.


I excavated it from the cupboard and silently crept up to my room to try it on. Admittedly it was a bit too small, I had to wear it on the last hole, and even then it exerted a slightly worrying degree of pressure around my windpipe and I could feel my veins tightening under its grip. Ever inventive, and using the compass from my Maths set I poked a new hole to make it bigger, and as it looked so cool, I had no option but to withstand the slight choking sensation, suffering for my art in the name of Punk.

“Where did you find that?” my mother asked as I appeared wearing it. “oh this?” I said like I’d been wearing it practically all my life “It was in the cupboard… it’s like a punk thing…” and of course like an idiot, I’d just tee-ed her up for the stock parental response…

“I suppose you can wear it in the house, but you’re not going out like that!

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