My sister came up to Paris this weekend especially for the Artic Monkeys concert. When I told her that I was attending the Inrocks festival, she looked at me as if I had told her that the Editors sucked. She is 17. As I sat under the covers recovering from the flu, I watched her get ready for the concert with her overly peroxyded friend, and I suddenly felt that all the youth had been kicked out of me. There she was slapping on the glitter, for the "effective rock look" bombarding her hair with Ellnett hairspray and yelling at her friend to get a move on because the opening of the gates was at 6pm ( it was about 3 in the afternoon). I could literally feel that she was ready to have a hormonal explosion. And there I was, going on about how much Alex turner is a soddy old bastard, and sipping a beer under the quilt. Whilst she went and sung her lungs out in the Zenith cherry faced and smelling of vanilla, I hung around the bar of the cigale, with red lipstick, looking like an aging hooker waiting to get picked up. Yeah yeah Black Lips and Ebony was a lot of fun, and tottering ( and slurring) over to Moune night club was perfect enough. But come 4 in the morning, the alcoholic banter that got me into trouble with numerous persons, my champagne self loathing, and my "vodka" laced music snobism got the better of me. I got into a taxi, smelling like a distillary and conked out at 5 after sending various random and insultive mails and text messages, to people who I felt deserved the wrath of my alcohol tainted bitchiness, and woke up feeling and looking like crap.
My sister on the other hand, quite literally had stars oozing out of her eyes the next day, it's then I realised that past 24, getting drunk at concerts, is quite literally social suicide and a source of self hate as you realise that in the space of 4 years you have turned into a rather sad has been bar crawler.
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