Growing up on a council estate in High Wycombe in the late 1970s, skinhead culture just spoke to me. It was all about camaraderie, fashion and music. We were listening to 2 Tone bands such as the Specials and aping what Madness wore on their album covers. Back then I was heavy-handed, angry and rough around the edges, and there was a definite suppression of anger in the lyrics of the bands we were listening to. I liked the attention that being a skinhead got me, too.
School was a nightmare for me. I loved art but couldn’t transfer what was in my head to the page, which caused me massive frustration. But in 1979, aged 14, I went to Woolies to buy a pair of binoculars and got a camera instead – a little 110 Hanimex. Getting my first set of prints developed was a life-changing moment. I remember the voice in my head: “I’m going to be a photographer.” That was it. I never wavered. I would get my mates to nick camera film from Boots for me because I was too scared. The only downside was that anywhere I went, I’d get: “Oh, look who it is, David Bailey.”
