It’s Bono’s fault. In 1987, the lead singer of U2 unwittingly created the template for young men who saw themselves as inwardly sensitive and poetic. In the music video for their song ‘With or Without You’, Bono wore a leather vest without a shirt and had a ponytail. He also had pierced ears. Suddenly, wearing a ponytail and getting your ears pierced was a way to tell the world that, just like Bono, beneath your adolescent exterior lurked deep pools of untapped emotion. And while such young men may, indeed, have seen themselves as inwardly sensitive and poetic, the world at large simply viewed them as idiots. I should know – I was one of those idiots.
It’s Bono’s fault. In 1987, the lead singer of U2 unwittingly created the template for young men who saw themselves as inwardly sensitive and poetic. In the music video for their song ‘With or Without You’, Bono wore a leather vest without a shirt and had a ponytail. He also had pierced ears. Suddenly, wearing a ponytail and getting your ears pierced was a way to tell the world that, just like Bono, beneath your adolescent exterior lurked deep pools of untapped emotion. And while such young men may, indeed, have seen themselves as inwardly sensitive and poetic, the world at large simply viewed them as idiots. I should know – I was one of those idiots.
Back then, getting to pony tail stage was something of a challenge, as the school I attended had a strict policy prohibiting boys from having hair on their shirt collar. It was incredibly unjust. The unfairness of the rule was magnified by the fact that our school principal at the time wore a spectacular toupee and was largely believed to be motivated by jealousy. Many of us pushed the boundaries as we cultivated nascent mullets with all the care of a prize winning rose hedge. But such attempts were forever in peril as, at any moment, you were at risk of a teacher spotting your developing locks and demanding that you get a haircut.
In retrospect, I should have taken the Principal on as a matter of principle (so to speak). I ought to have bought myself a toupee with an inbuilt mullet. Luxurious locks would have spilled over my collar like a hairy waterfall. Demands that I rectify the flagrant breach of the ‘no hair on your collar’ rule could be met by the simple removal of the wig. Problem solved. Sadly, I was not so clever then.
If hair over your collar was frowned upon, having your ear pierced was greeted with slack-jawed disbelief more befitting David Copperfield magic spectacular than a piece of jewelry. I couldn’t wait to get one. But with the weight of the entire educational establishment against us, we were forced to improvise. For a time, we would take the small metal loops that hold groups of keys together and prise them far enough apart to slip them over our pristine lobes as ‘faux’ earrings. This was remarkably effective for short periods of time. But because there had to be a reasonable degree of pressure to keep the ring clamped onto your ear, after ten or so minutes your lobe would turn crimson before becoming puce. By then, people would look right past the earring to the miniature eggplant lobe to which it was clinging.
It wasn’t until I reached the end of year 12 that I could finally get a piercing. Some of my friends, who were older and had left high school, had already done so and they would tell stories as to how they had used little more than a rusty nail and a glass of whiskey to do the job. Such stories, and the flaming red earlobes that were inevitably ripe with infection that went with them, stood as testament to their bravery. But I didn’t have any whiskey, nor did I own nail – rusty or otherwise.
The local Chemist sold ear-piercing kits. They came with a generous quantity of disinfectant and a length of clamping leather to stick between your teeth as you braced for the inevitable, awesome pain that comes with having a stud injected into your flesh. It was the sensible way to go about things. Personally, I’d like to think that Bono too had dropped by his local chemist when making the leap to pierced ears. In the weeks leading up to exams and after classes were finished, I got my ears pierced. Or, to be precise, I had one ear pierced. It was the fashion at the time.
For the first few weeks, you had to make do with a ‘stud’ and apply large amounts of cream to ward off infection. No doubt my ear lobe wondered what it had done to deserve being harpooned in such a cavalier manner. Throughout this entire period, I was counting down the days. Finally, the day came and I would wear a proper earring. At the time, the only place that sold earrings was the chemist and those they did sell were designed only for ladies. I was not to be deterred and selected some large gold hoops. By that time, I had grown out my hair and nearly had enough for a ponytail. Together with a single earring in my left ear, I thought I looked amazing if not a little like Bono himself. Photos from the era strongly suggest that this impression was largely misconceived. I did not look like Bono, nor did I look amazing. I looked exactly like the idiot I undoubtedly was. Or maybe a pirate.
Things got worse from there. I got two more piercings the following year at University. But as 1990s progressed, it wasn’t enough to have your ears pierced – people were sticking metal in bellybuttons, noses and eyebrows. For a time, young people had so much metal in their faces that many looked as though they’d been victims of an industrial accident. I couldn’t keep up. People often refer to the folly of youth but I don’t see it that way. It’s a good thing to be that enthusiastic and open to new ideas. To this day, there are pock holes in my ear lobes where three quite lady-like earrings once hung. I’m glad the earrings are gone, but I don’t regret for a moment getting them pierced. Besides, it could have been worse. I may have gotten my ears pierced, but at least I never wore a leather vest without a shirt. Unlike Bono.