On Saturday I rocked up to the O2 to hear the dulcet tones of One Direction. Outfit wise, I eventually opted for my favourite cropped lilac jumper paired with an accessorize statement necklace, along with dark blue high-waisted jeans and my cream lace converse. I didn’t fancy lugging a coat around with me for the whole evening, as I knew I’d get inevitably far too hot and also my lime green Holister jacket makes me look decidedly uncool. So I opted for my oversized tartan scarf in dark green and blue, lilac and pale yellow hues which I draped around my neck on the way to the O2 and wrapped tight around my shoulders when I left because the air had got noticeably chilly.
Just as I’d predicted, the fans were either ridiculously glamorous or effortlessly cool and edgy, whilst others were extremely young (some as young as 5, which to be quite frank is absolutely absurd) wrapped in glittery 1D leggings and accompanied by overbearing female relatives.
Although I didn’t see any fainting this time around, I did hear a lot of irrational and out-of-place screaming. The girls around me sounding very much like a persistent and shrill firework display, squeaking and squawking whenever Liam reached Zayn’s previous high notes, or whenever any of the boys moved for that matter.
Third concert under my belt, I’ve noticed that One Direction have sadly become considerably less attractive, in my opinion. With the exception of Liam, they could all do with a good scrub in the bath (to removed the vast array of miscellaneous tattoos cluttering up their arms) and an overdue trip to the barbers. What is going on with Harry Styles hair for goodness sake? My word, it looks awful. It’s greasy and straggly and just looks really gross. I’ve never been a fan of man buns or excessively bushy beards and I am certainly not a fan of this new lengthy, sweaty hair. At all. Harry’s face, yes, big fan of that. But that barnet…no thank you. Who’s with me?
Hideous hair aside, Harry has got Style. Undeniably. He owned the show, adopting the role of MC whilst the other band members changed their t-shirts and urinated inbetween songs. At one point, he focused in on a small girl in the front row, it was her birthday and so he made the whole O2 sing happy birthday to her, which just about made her life. And she evidently couldn’t believe her luck when Harry actually jumped down from the platform stage, all just to hug her. Perhaps a less impressive moment was when Harry noticed a fan eating some chips. ‘I want those chips!’ he said and suddenly the container of fries were in his hands. He ate one or two and then threw them out into the audience. Ketchup and all. How very rock and roll! If a ketchup laden chip landed on me, I would be furious, even if Joseph Gordon-Levitt had thrown them, I would not be a happy bunny.
As much as I enjoyed the concert, I shan’t be going to one again. Mainly because I felt old and unexcited. Surrounded by crying teenagers, hands out stretched, hurriedly waving posters around and hollering protestations of their adoration for 1D. I had to sit down towards the end, standing and bobbing to the beat, all too much for my 24 year old knees.