On Accessorising
A few mornings ago, my mother and I were discussing the merits of scarves as an aid to dressing more modestly.
“I’m not convinced,” she mused. “I still think they’re too titillating.”
Sniggering at the idea of scarves as risque apparel, I suddenly remembered the first time I saw chairlift play live. At the time, I was among those philistines who only knew one of their songs - Bruises - and that only from the iPod commercial. Accordingly, I was expecting some kind of Julia Stone copy to walk out onto the stage. I certainly was not expecting Caroline Polachek.
She emerged wearing only three items of clothing: a pair of highly reflective aviators, some black basketball shorts, and a black piece of material that could best be described as a scarf. The scarf was wide, wrapped loosely about her neck, and draped so that it covered most of her chest - indeed it took me a moment or two to realise it wasn’t some kind of halter top. She took up her position behind a synthesiser, and as she moved to adjust her mic stand, the scarf swung dangerously, revealing that underneath it she wore only two strips of neon pink electrical tape, one covering each nipple. I remember wondering just how vigorously she intended to move during the set, as she finished adjusting her equipment and began to speak:
“The rest of the band are busy back-stage. I dunno what they’re doing. Do you mind if I start without them?”
Needless to say, as the crowed cheered their assent, every man in the vicinity suddenly felt the need to move a lot closer to the stage.
