In recent years the world hasn’t just embraced individuality—it’s stuck it in neon lights, blasted it on a “ sonos roam” and handed it a pair of oversized sunglasses. Thanks to woke culture, Gen Z flair, and the internet’s knack for being louder than your mum’s rampant rabbit during EastEnders, the message is clear: it’s cool to be different. Social media took that message and turned the volume up to 11, plastering timelines with freak flags waving higher than a cheerleader at sports day—complete with glitter and the occasional existential crisis.
But here’s the plot twist: being different isn’t some TikTok-era invention. Nope. Long before influencers and edgy vloggers, the idea thrived in scrappy places like music scenes, charity shops, and coffee houses that look like they were decorated by your nan and a mid-century design intern… after a night of karaoke at the office. These quirky spots, with their mismatched chairs and oddly specific teapot collections, have always been the OG hideouts for misfits, dreamers, and oat milk evangelists who secretly wish their barista would acknowledge their band’s SoundCloud.
Subcultures, bless their chaotic little hearts, have always been the underdogs of self-expression. Whether it’s the estates of Manchester, the punk mecca of King’s Road, or even the Bauhaus school in the 1920s, these movements have been havens for the creatively inclined. Bauhaus wasn’t just about minimalist furniture and clean lines; it welcomed women into its ranks and birthed a vibe so effortlessly cool that old photos of its students look like the next post-punk band about to headline Glastonbury. Honestly, give them a synth and some mood lighting, and they could probably sell out Camden’s Roundhouse next weekend.
For angsty teens dodging algebra and awkward small talk with relatives, these scenes are salvation—a place where you can find your people, whether you’re into black eyeliner, loud tartan, or Bauhaus-inspired monochrome. Subcultures are the rebellion soundtracks for those bored stiff by the mainstream, the “fcuk this” of young hearts searching for a spark. They’re the kind of movements where the weird kid who wore a trench coat in July becomes a legend, not a cautionary tale.
Meanwhile, traditional education? Oh, it’s there—awkwardly trying to clap along but hopelessly off-beat, like someone’s dad at a school disco. Schools reward correct answers but side-eye creativity like it’s a kid drawing dragons in the margins of their test paper. Slowly, though, there’s a shift, like someone dusting off their parents’ old Britpop records and realising they still slap. The world is waking up to the fact that creativity isn’t just the cherry on top; it’s the whole cake. Pink Floyd called this out ages ago with “We don’t need no education,” a line that might make your English teacher cry into their marking, but hey—it’s a banger.
True learning? That’s not confined to fluorescent classrooms with that one flickering light that gives everyone a headache. It happens in garages echoing with out-of-tune guitars, in charity shops where every jumper smells faintly of nostalgia and mothballs, and in cosy coffee houses like The Merchants, where cappuccinos flow as freely as the inspiration. The Merchants isn’t just a caffeine pit stop; it’s a haven for journal scribblers, doodlers, and anyone debating if Van Gogh was a misunderstood genius or just someone who couldn’t handle a bad haircut.
Take Jersey, for example. Sure, it’s not exactly London or Manchester, but it punches above its weight in quirky, creative hangouts. There’s Seedee John’s for the vinyl diggers (because Spotify just isn’t vintage enough), Chaos for the offbeat fashionistas, and Island Music, run by the ever-enthusiastic Paul Sharkey. Island Music isn’t just a shop; it’s a sanctuary for anyone who knows the difference between a Stratocaster and their nan’s cheese grater.
These places are the beating heart of local culture—where you can pick up your first guitar, stumble upon rare records, or get into a heated debate about whether The Smiths are overrated (spoiler: they’re not although I think we can all agree Morissery is a dick ). They’re judgement-free zones, where nobody cares if you’re goth, punk, a Directioner, or someone who insists Oasis was better than The Stone Roses (wrong, by the way).
So, rock those sequins, embrace the studs, or sip your flat white while arguing about existentialism—or whether a flat white is just a fancy latte in disguise. Whatever your flavour of weird, own it. Celebrate the quirks, the chaos, and the loud and quiet ways you stand out. And if you find yourself in a music shop, a journal club, or staring at a Bauhaus photo that looks like a Joy Division album cover, let your curiosity guide you. Just one rule: don’t play the forbidden riff.
Words: Damien Philpott. Photography: Oliver Doran Hair: Damien Philpott. Models Savannah, Piper and Lauma. With thanks to Island Music.
