Goths of Summer

Have you ever wondered what goths do in summer? You'd think they'd go into hybernation or sleep in soil-lined coffins or something, but oh no: last week I spotted an intire international convention of them - 30+ - all sat under a tree in Regents Park telling goth stories.
But considering it's been over 30 degrees all week, it must be pretty hard to stay true to your goth ideals at a time like this. I feel for them, I really do (I wouldn't go so far as to say my heart bleeds, mind). It must be tough with all that pasty white skin, sweaty black rubber and leather and squelchy net stockings. And the make-up must run to buggery and get all over your black clothes. In all seriousness, you've got to admire someone who puts themselves through so much discomfort when it would be so much easier to stick on a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of Speedos.
This morning I saw a goth who'd actually cracked it: black flip flops (for the Australians amongst you, that's 'thongs'); black linen Cambodian-style three-quarter length trousers, black t-shirt, black bandana with his hair neatly tied up at the back of his head, Chinese Emperor-style.
Word.
He still obviously had Fields of the Nephilim on his iPod though.
(There's another thing: obviously any discerning goth would go for the black iPod - but it's got bloody U2 logos all over it. What to do?)

I'm so excited by the whole subject I think I might devote an entire website to The Summer of Goth. In the meantime, here's some pictures of some sweaty big-boned people suffering for their art:

Goth Picnic!

Aww...