If you question my expertise on sceney-bopper-ness, let me walk you through a moment in time. I’m standing in the sitting room, my mother in the kitchen, and I’m begging her to let me either a) cut my fringe to one of those cool, massive emo fringes that were huge on Tumblr, or b) let me dye my hair purple. Guess which one I got? Neither . And while I was angry at the time – in much retrospect (death), I do appreciate the hit she took from me on that one. Because instead of photos of me at 13, wearing an egregious amount of eyeliner, an emo fringe, with purple streaks, there are now photos of me with just an egregious amount of eyeliner. With her telling me that ‘it was just a phase,’ I’d ‘grow out of it,’ ‘I wouldn’t want the haircut after the novelty wore off’,’ and ‘hair dye takes a lot of maintenance.’ To that, I asked for a cartilage piercing, which, to my 13-year-old br...