Photograph by Dylan Walker
Andy Walker, viagra medical also known as Loyal Trooper is very modest, side effects he will rarely talk about his music especially not to strangers, he wants his songs to speak for themselves. Tonight he is playing at Bar Music Hall in Hoxton. He says he is just testing out some new ones. Fresh from playing at Two Thousand Trees festival he says he feels, ‘crowd spoilt’, being an unsigned artist playing to a packed tent full of people with eager ears and open minds. By comparison by the time he plays Bar music hall tonight the crowd are mostly too busy discussing important matters of their own to notice him play heart rendering acoustic nuggets of joy, sadness and Sheffield related heartbreak. The group of people sat at the front were however paying close attention and during the second song a friend turns to me and says , ‘wow he is incredibly talented!’, and she’s certainly not wrong!
Its a big stage for one person but the pretty noise soon fills up the place nicely, ‘Okay at Best’ is about being bored of growing up and knowing there is more to life than being unfulfilled and wearing a suit. The line, ‘I want to fall asleep at my desk’ Is sang slowly and sleepily, accompanied by sweet twinkly guitar, this however is followed by repeated yelling of ‘fuck being okay at best’. Its a little bit like watching Bill Hicks lulling you into a false sense of security and then shouting at you, if Bill Hicks was incredibly good looking, had an aptitude for playing acoustic guitar and didn’t sweat or scream quite as much.
Photograph by Dylan Walker
His songs display an astonishingly accurate observations of london, its bars, its personalities and its pitfalls. ‘Five year plan’ is a cathartic rant at those irritating people we all know and love who can talk and talk and talk about themselves but don’t seem to possess ears. Andy has perfected the art of beautiful songs that can be incredibly sad in places while revealing a dark sense of humour in others. ‘I know about their job, their pet, their wife, but they never ask a single detail about my life’. Singing, ‘will they ever get bored of being self important pricks?’ feels very appropriate as his soft voice filters through the chattering of those in the bar.
Luckily enough I know Andy fairly well, so I am not only able to talk to him about his songs but am even lucky enough to take him home with me after the gig and give him a guinness or three and some nicotine gum. Having been locked in introspective song writing sessions Andy has recorded a mini album in his bedroom, and now says he feels ready to show everyone what he has made, so he is self-releasing it, it comes out on the 15th of September, it might be hard to find, but if I were you I would go looking for it.
The enduring flirtation between art and fashion has borne some strange and beautiful sartorial love children. From Yves Saint Laurent’s timelessly chic 1965 ‘Mondrian’ dress to Guy Bourdin’s iconic fashion photography; from the paper ‘Souper Dress‘ inspired by Andy Warhol’s achingly prosaic Campbell’s image, to the recent – and inexplicable – collaboration between Warhol and Pepe jeans. Art and fashion are firm, if sometimes awkward, friends.
Enter Phaiz, a gallery slash boutique in Chicago’s River West neighborhood – an area increasingly awash with converted loft spaces, ergo artists and creative types – which alluringly promises that its visitors will leave feeling like they’ve been rendezvousing with the aforementioned Andy Warhol and enfant terrible Alexander McQueen.
Reticent fashionistas with a cerebral bent pondering whether to visit a gallery or a boutique are thoughtfully spared the angst, as Phaiz, a concept store with a difference, seamlessly marries art and fashion in a meeting defined by its makers as a ‘collision’, but perhaps more aptly described as a match made in proverbial heaven for the all-encompassing aesthetes among us.
A refreshing alternative to high street mass production and identikit ‘It’ bags, visitors to this cult gallery/boutique can peruse the cavernous 800 square foot space safe in the knowledge that its wares are one of a kind, being crafted exclusively for Phaiz and available for a period of 30 days alongside the space’s site specific installations of the same duration.
With prices ranging from $80 to a credit crunch eschewing $3,000, the work of exhibiting artists and designers virtually transforms Phaiz on a monthly basis. With each collaboration ushering in a new phase – get it? – for the gallery/boutique, whose blurring of the lines between art and fashion extends to its pricing scheme. A scheme that sees all items bereft of price tags with visitors instead being gifted a price list upon arrival.
One of many beautiful collisions to have emerged from Phaiz so far saw the juxtaposition of the work of former graffiti artist, Peter Kepha with that of fur designer Backtalk. An unobvious coupling, were it not for Kepha and Backtalk’s shared use of collage.
In rubbishing distinctions between art and fashion and the way in which they should be seen and bought, Phaiz provides a very real compromise to Janice Dickinson’s – yes, the original supermodel of I’m a Celeb fame – suggestion that we should ‘follow sound business trends, not fashion trends’. A trendsetting pioneer rather than a follower, Phaiz seems to have not just art and fashion, but the tricky business of selling them, quite literally sewn up.
Since starting at Amelia’s I’ve become used to the art openings of the Shoreditch scene, dosage with beer in a bucket and noisy chatter becoming something I’ve taken for granted. I was slightly surprised, visit this site then, upon entering the FRED gallery on Vyner street that no such scene greeted me. I was not so far, geographically, from all the galleries I have previously visited, but I felt like I was a world away.
A sparse, older art crowd, exchanging air kisses (one for each cheek) inhabited the interior of FRED. Each culture vulture entering before me was greeted with a “Hi, how are you? Would you like a glass of wine?”, but I received no such greeting or offer. It seemed that as soon as they had seen my tatty teeshirt and knee high socks they must have figured that I obviously didn’t have the money to buy any of the art, and therefore any magical, purse-string-loosening booze would be wasted on me.
Feeling somewhat shunned, I found comfort in reading the printed info about exhibiting artist Jakob Roepke. I found that Roepke, a German artist born in 1960, has produced over 700 of his small collages since 1996. It was also made clear that each collage was available to buy for the amount of £200 + VAT.
On to these collages, then… the whole reason for my being here (I know that in hindsight it seems as though alcohol might have been the priority, but I can assure you that art was the only intoxication I was seeking. Yes, really!) Fred was displaying 130 of Roepke’s works, all 12 x 13cm pieces made from 1999 to the present day. I was really taken with the nature of the display, a tiny shelf running around the whole of the space that brought the tiny, intricate squares up to a comfortable viewing level.
The experience of viewing the collages was like going from room to room of a dolls house and peering in. Within the four corners of each work the stage was set for weird existences to play themselves out; a man making tea on the back of a tortoise, another buffing the toes of a woolly mammoth. When windows were present in the rooms, all sorts of mysteries came in through them; trees invading to take shelter inside, graph paper blobs floating in and owls perching on the ledges. Juxtaposition is what’s great about collage as an image making technique, and Roepke’s use of characters from 1970′s yoga handbooks and birds from nature annuals made his juxtapositions all the more absurd. His use of flat patterns, worked on to as if 3D, lent a distorted perspective that made surreal scenes even more bizarre.
Technically, each collage was impressive too. Pieces of card had been completely covered, front and back, in papers with tiny patterns (dolls house wall paper, Japanese origami paper graph paper…) and then worked on, layer by layer, with paper cut-outs. The whole thing was then painstakingly painted to bring all the layers together. I watched, slightly jealous, as the gallery owner encouraged one potential buyer to (“very gently!”) run her finger over one piece to see how surprisingly thick and bumpy it’s surface was.
I learned at an early age NEVER EVER to touch a piece of art in a gallery, so I was pretty shocked to see a gallery owner actively encouraging a hands on approach. But then I shouldn’t really have been surprised at such special treatment since this woman had already staked her claim on a couple of pieces she wanted to buy. Knee high socks girl wasn’t getting any such treatment, however, as I trailed around after the gallery owner, hoping to have a word with him (well, it’s only polite), but could never seem to divert his attention away from wooing possible purchasers.
Eventually giving up, I left the FRED gallery glad to have been allowed a peep inside Jakob Roepke’s mixed up miniature world. However I did feel that the hosts of this world could have been a bit more accomadating to those who didn’t look like they might want to buy a share.
Leila Arab has been away for quite some time. Her acclaimed debut LP, patient 1998′s Like Weather, diagnosis was followed up by ‘Courtesy For Choice’ back in 2000, symptoms but since then Leila has taken a break from creating her own music. This absence can be explained by the fact that both her parents passed away during this time and music no longer was a priority for the Iranian born Leila. However, born through Warp records, we now welcome her return with ‘Blood, Looms and Blooms’.
Instrumental opener ‘Mollie’ welcomes us into the dark and haunting world that is Leila’s new offering, although this welcome feels full of warnings that our souls may be dragged down into some ‘through the looking glass’ existence and we may not escape unscathed. With Leila now having us firmly by the hand we are led down, down to listen in on the noises of an enchanted workshop documented in ‘Time to Blow’, in which we are promised “I’ll make you regret it”. This is fast becoming experimental electronica at it’s most dark.
A little respite is needed from all this menace, and we are given it with the lovely ‘Little Acorns’. Standing out as one of the most upbeat, and quite dance-able, pieces on the album it comes complete with rappy happy children’s vocals. However, ‘Daisy’s, Cats and Spacemen’ is quick to whip us back up in the melancholic atmosphere that runs through this album like a black thread. Incredibly reminiscent of old school Portishead trip hoppery, this track showcases the sultry vocals of Leila’s sister Roya Arab that end with a ghostly whisper to the back of your neck.
‘Mettle’ is the real stand out track, a Bjork like opening that sounds like robots tuning themselves in that quickly collapses into a dirty surging motion, covered in hectic liquid dripping noises. This tune lulls you into false senses of security with calmer moments, then slams you against the wall with loud roars that grab you by the throat. The abrupt stop that ends this track is like a rug pulled from under your feet, like your breath has been stolen away from you.
‘Teases Me’ has beautiful vocals from Luca Santucci, and resonates in a similar fashion to Mezzanine era Massive Attack. Other noteworthy vocals are those of Martina Topley-Bird (on the almost sing-along ‘Deflect’) and the operatic turn of Seaming on ‘The Exotics’.
There is plenty to disturb on this album, the truly sinister ‘Carplos’ being a perfect example of this. There is a Clockwork Orange style menace to the sound in this track, although it feels like it would sit well in the background of any horror movie.
It’s definitely not all plain sailing though. Beatles cover ‘Norwegian Wood’ is a really difficult listen, at times throwing melody out of the window to concentrate instead on the increasingly disjointed beats. At one point Luca Santucci lends his vocals three or four times over to this track, in each layer singing the tune ever so slightly differently so that when combined my ear drums were rattled in a way that ended up just plain hurting. ‘Lush Dolphins’ was another track that I just couldn’t bring myself to appreciate, and couldn’t even begin to try and explain.
‘Young Ones’ won me back though, an enchanting track that reveals itself to be a live recording with a burst of applause erupting at the close. ‘Why Should We?’ brings the album to an end, uniting Terry Hall and Martina Topley-Bird in a duet.
Leila’s long awaited ‘Blood, Looms and Blooms’ is an album that keeps us at a distance, an enthralled spectator on a dark dreamscape. The experience is like being fully aware of a nightmare, and the fact it can’t hurt us, but having no control over the outcome and feeling horrified all the same. It’s no light listen, and I personally don’t often feel drawn to such sinister tunes, but for those who like their fairy tales grown up and their sleep walks sultry; this is the album for you.
Tucked away in the back streets of N16 lies a near secret Shangri – la. Down a side alley not so far from Tesco metro, illness surrounded by a mixture of oblivious residences and industrial units, a cardboard sign informs that you have reached Stoke Newington International Airport.
Launched in April as a multi platform space for a diverse range of artists to set up studio, put on performances and try things out amidst an idyllic menagerie of plants, decadent throws, paint pots and wood. One warm, fresh Saturday evening a few weeks back, I was one of 150 others enraptured by the mixture of Gilliam-esque hand drawn animation, laptop technology and klezma meets African music that is The Paper Cinema and Kora. As well as one of the most free for all, insanely clashing DJ sets I’ve heard, but please, for now, let’s keep this on the QT.
This is grass routes, organic as you like and in absolutely in no rush to court too much publicity: “I feel we keep moving really, really slowly and because of that it’s OK, y’know, we’re not going beyond our skills or our ability to control anything, and we can do what we want.” Greg, one fifth of the guys behind the venture informs me between slups of Espresso. “It means we can book acts that maybe wouldn’t work so well if we had a (makes bang bang noise) kind of crowd. A good thing about the film night was that you could say to people, ‘right, now we’re going to watch a film’ and everyone’s quiet and there isn’t any noise from anywhere else.”
“One night, you’ve got some music… a poet … and lets say an ice sculptor, someone goes for the ice sculptor but you know when your DJing and you trust the label?” We’re talking ethos, “So you say ‘Ok I’ll check it out ‘coz I really enjoyed the last release.’ It’s like that but you make sure everything is of a certain quality, and if it’s not, it has to have that potential quality.”
A year ago things couldn’t have been more different with the Airport in previous incarnation as a sweatshop. “This place was full of crap, trucks going in and out and material and just junk and shit, and these Chinese girls that used to work at the factory, we used to watch them, everyday at 8 o clock when their shift finished they’d get out the door and they’d fucking leg it away, (I’m) thinking what horror’s gone on in there?” We’re sold this idea that these kind of working conditions are far away in places like Thailand. “Machines absolutely everywhere… completely filled with sowing machines, noise, and they’d blocked out all the windows because they’d work faster if the lights were blocked…Poor building having to put up with all this horrible stuff!” Anyhow, the factory relocated, receiving a better contract with a certain high street retailer.
At the heart of the Airport … wait, a minute, let’s say it again, Stoke Newington International Airport… The Airport, I just love that name, but that’s got to wait. At the heart of the Airport is the collective of which exists two Gregs, a Nick, a Gary and a Zekan – all exchanging trades and ideas on how to build this. Backgrounds in theatre, music, DJing lead way to secret skills in carpentry, book keeping and legal matters that empower a project: “This would only be possible with the five of us together and our each very different points of view, the different personalities that there are, but together there is this…” Gestures to the courtyard, as we get hit by the mid afternoon sun.
“People say that it’s really warm, and I don’t want it to be aloof or snooty.” This extends to the breeding ground aspect of the ethos, a cross platform environment for a wide variety of artists to exchange ideas. I know from my own experience that when approaching someone of a different artistic, if not language, dialect can be intimidating. “As a performer I think that’s what I’d really love, to go somewhere and to know that half the people are really interested, or they might be, and half have no idea what is going on. But really for me, it’s a community to exchange ideas. If I can see some way to put people together, not to say let’s do this and put it on at the Barbican, but y’know, why don’t you just do ten minutes next week? Try it out? Then why not?”
And now the name. Horrific to think that the Airport was almost called Tony’s! The eventual choice came from a very long list but also presented certain legal problems with registering as a company: “And they said ‘Ah yeah, are you an airport?’ ‘No.’ ‘Will you be able to provide us with proof that’d you’ll be doing your business internationally?’ ‘No.’ So we can’t call the company Stoke Newington International Airport. We’re hackney 5 Arts and the venue is Stoke Newington International Airport.” Do Fabric have to prove they don’t actually trade fabric?
This is my personal call to arms! Come to Climate Camp! I will be there for the entire week, help helping to run the kitchens in the London neighbourhood, and hopefully penning day by day blogs of the week’s events. There will also be visits from various Amelia’s Magazine interns throughout my time there, and Katie, who is manning the earth section of the blog, intends to be there for the whole week.
Cooking in the London neighbourhood 2007
Climate Camp 2007
But what is this Climate Camp I hear you cry?! Well, Climate Camp began life in the summer of 2006, when a bunch of people decided to squat the land near Drax power station with the aim of bringing attention to the climate catastrophe that we fast find ourselves approaching. Even though I went to the G8 camp in Stirling in 2005. I did not attend this inaugural Climate Camp because I was loved up – most of my mates went but I was probably shagging. Oh well, that is far in the past and last year and this year I have been progressively more involved with Climate Camp, which has turned into an enthusiastic worldwide movement. This year I have been attending weekly London neighbourhood meetings for a few months, helping to put together our little encampment, and generally rallying the troops.. we’ve been flyering festivals large and small and last weekend we got together to make Rocket Stoves from old veg oil tins; great little stoves that are the most efficient way to boil water on site.
Lots of glue (made from flour, water and sugar) later
Collecting this years rocket stoves
Rocket stoves in use Climate Camp 2007
Climate Camp aims to address the dilemmas facing humankind as oil and other energy sources such as coal diminish in a proactive and inspiring way; collectively we aim to make living sustainably a feasible possibility. This is done by actually living in the manner which we think is the way forward, on a sustainable camping ground as a community; cooking and eating together, making decisions by consensus and learning from our peers. The toilets are all compostable of course and the power is all renewable. There is also a shedload of workshops on during the week – the best of which will be highlighted a little later on in this blog. Like me you may feel a bit confused and worried about climate change but because you don’t know enough about it you feel unable to do anything – well, that’s a pretty standard reaction – humans like to bury their heads in the sand when they are stuck for what else to do. But by attending Climate Camp you will not only be showing your support for positive change (in the light of rubbish government policies like building new coal-fired power stations instead of spending money on renewable options) you will also be empowering yourself towards leading a more positive future.
Climate Camp 2007 compostable toilets
Last year the Climate Camp was held directly next to Heathrow in protest of the proposed third runway which would exterminate the village of Sipson and increase our carbon emissions way beyond anything that is sustainable. There was so much coverage in the press we didn’t know where to look! My photogenic friends took to competing with each other for who could glean the most column inches and biggest photos, such was their coverage of their direct actions.
Flyering at Rise festival
This year Kingsnorth power station in Kent has been chosen as the site of the camp – itself a direct action – from whence a mass direct action can be orchestrated on the weekend of the 9-10 August. This is the site of the first of eight new coal fired power stations that are being mooted to roll out across the UK in the next couple of years – much has been made of the carbon capture facilities that might be implemented at the site at some unspecified point in the future, but the fact is that these are not serious proposals yet – a large scale facility has yet to be designed and built anywhere in the world, it has been labelled another “great green scam” by George Monbiot , and the feeling with Climate Campers is that we should not be supporting the regrowth of a coal industry, mostly feeding off low grade coal imported from china, neither the easy fix of nuclear. Instead we should be looking at ways to lower our energy needs – by living in more sustainable manners. If any of these ideas interest you (and they should – climate change will affect all of us, and sooner rather than later) then you must come visit us! Last year I learnt so much I dubbed the event Climate Change University. There were visiting climate change luminaries aplenty, and the wonderful George Monbiot was so keen to keep talking after his official debate was over that he came over to the London neighbourhood (we are all split into neighbourhoods, with de-centralised kitchens and meeting spaces) and insisted on talking into the small hours.
London neighbourhood 2007
But not only that, Climate Camp is fun!!! If you like engaging company with likeminded types then this is a great place to be. Of course there was the odd drugged out drongo, but hey what do you expect?! it is a totally free gathering after all and is bound to attract some dodgy uns. This year I took it upon myself to design (with the fab illustrator Leona Clarke, who is featured in issue 09) a London neighbourhood-specific poster and flyer, and also a songbook designed to get everyone singing along together. My “anarchist punk choir” will be attending on the tuesday night (august 5th), as will my band Cutashine – the barndance that we put on last year was amongst the highlights of my year – it’s quite something to watch 500 people completely let loose! Entertainments in the evening are definitely a highlight, but simple things such as cooking with others are just as inspiring.
London neighbourhood cooks having fun
Flyering at Rise festival watching a video on how to take down fences
So, onto the highlights of this year’s workshops… for a fuller programme go here. (it may be subject to change so always check up) To get here just catch a train to Strood then hop on our pre-arranged minibus. Come visit us for a day, or better still bring your tent and sleeping bag and come shack up with us for a few days or the whole week – you won’t regret it.
Kicking off the week with a whole bucketload of positive thinking is Matt Carmichael at 10.30am, who will focus on what we are fighting for… and reasons not to give up..He’ll be back to discuss the “great global warming swindle” at 2.30pm too.
I am a sometimes lapsed veggie – I stopped eating meat at the age of 13 because I hated the fatty bits that my mum would force me to eat even though they made me gag. I had quite a fiery relationship with my mum at that time and when I announced (somewhat gleefully) my decision I remember her throwing a chicken drumstick at me in exasperation. I was pretty strict for many years but by my late 20s I started to miss bits of meat, and have eaten small amounts of mainly organic and free range white meat ever since. But I think I will attend the talk given by Guardian journalist Guy Shrubsole at 12 midday on the environmental impacts of eating meat. I know its bad, and I should know more.
The programme is so packed that every day I am likely to miss a workshop that I really want to attend which is going to wind me up. Never mind! I can comfort myself by returning to our kitchen and donning one of the “Coalmine Canary” yellow aprons that my intern Emma is currently making up for us kitchen bods to wear.
On Tuesday my fellow kitchen bitch Kat Forrester will be running a workshop on women and direct action. She’s a veteran of direct action these days, having d-locked herself to a metal gate at a private airbase at Biggin Hill during last years camp. These days she spends much of her time sorting out press for Plane Stupid if she is not organizing our London kitchen.
One definite highlight of the week will be Jay Griffiths speaking at 12 on her amazing book Wild. It is the most inspiring piece of literature I have read in a long time and I will definitely be front row for that.
At 4.30pm Greenpeace activists will be discussing why nuclear power is not a viable alternative to coal – I already know my gut feelings on this subject but would like to crib up a bit more at the feet of those more knowledgeable.
Planning this years camp
On Wednesday there are two very interesting talks on at 10.30am – the first will be given by PIRC – a very interesting centre dedicated to research into climate change – which will no doubt be given by my mate Richard Hawkins, who helped me out with some lectures at LCC last year when the college decided to focus on sustainability in design. He’s a great talker, so should be very engaging.
However I would also like to attend Rising Tide’s talk on Art Not Oil: Using Our Creativity To Resist Oil Industry Sponsorship Of The Arts. It’s not something I’ve personally had to deal with (noone is exactly throwing money at me…) but I can see it could have useful applications in other areas – I am very keen to avoid working with advertisers whose products or services I don’t believe in, but I totally understand how it can be very hard when you are totally skint and need to fund your work somehow.
Then at 4.30pm James Marriott from Platform will be speaking about the role of the big oil companies in today’s world of peak oil. Platform is an arts and ecology based foundation and I was so desperate to meet James that I went to study at the Schumacher College in Devon so I could work with him. (I didn’t because they cancelled him without telling me, but that’s another story)
There will be more from Platform on Thursday, with Kevin Smith talking about the cash behind new coal, and Mel Evans on what some of our big banks are up to. Both lovely people who have been out there flyering with me.
I will also want to attend the talk on Ecofeminism at 12 – it’s a subject close to my heart and the inspiration behind one of the photoshoots in my new issue.
Flyering on watermargins
By Friday there will be lots of space in the diary for the whole camp to get involved in planning a mass action – a process which will be done by Consensus. If you are unfamiliar with this process you will soon discover how it works at Climate Camp, but suffice to say that if everyone around you starts doing jazz hands you have stumbled into a Consensus meeting. But don’t be scared by the tic-like hand movements – Consensus decision making is merely a completely fair (if sometimes frustratingly longwinded) way of reaching the best possible decision for everyone involved.
At 10.30am though, I will definitely be trying to listen in to two very interesting sounding discussions – Guy Shrubsole on China and Coal Power and Kriptik on the consequences of mineral exploitation around the world.
I hope that reading through some of this will have inspired you to come down and visit – we’d love to see you – everyone is welcome.
Flyering at Rise festival
No doubt most people will have heard ‘Let’s Talk About It’ unless of course you have been residing in a cave, troche being one of the most catchiest future classics and previously released. So it comes as a surprise that it has not been taking up by some generic hair gel as an anthem for said product’s advert. It follows then that ‘Let’s Talk About It’ provides a raucous introduction to ‘Workout Hoilday’ (so-called because the work on this album was done in time-out from White Denim‘s day jobs).
On ‘Workout Holiday’ the Austin trio showcase their varied musical education and it seems to have worked out (ha). James Petralli (guitar, vocals), Steve Terebecki (bass) and Josh Block (drums) have all played in punk/noise bands but collectively have completed formal jazz education and dabbled in various genres and outfits. This results in, in their own words, a deliciously addictive ‘sound collage‘. ‘Lets Talk About It’ is soulful raucousness of a third date, ‘Sitting’ is the love child of Randy Newman and Count Cacolac and ‘Mess Your Hair Up’ is stop start punchy affair (mmm, not sure where these relationship themed metaphors are springing from, but please bear with me for one more) and ‘WDA’ is the OAP couple sat on a park bench holding hands.
Whilst not only demonstrating a breadth of creativity, the trio also produced this LP themselves. In a customised studio trailer kept in the Austin woods, no less. Creative mastery and technological know how, do these boys have girlfriends?
With a cutting and pasting approach to music ‘Workout Holiday’ could have resulted in a bit of a mess. But White Denim keep their sound cohesive despite the array of influences and experimentations, to keep it sounding as fresh as a daisy. If you were living in a cave and questioning your hermit existence White Denim would be a good place to start you re-education back into society.