By the time I took to the stage at the Rhythm Factory, a tremendous thunderstorm had erupted, cracks of lightning flashing through the window – the perfect accompaniment to our first headline set.
Through the magenta haze of strobes, sweat and cigarette smoke, I felt the glare of a lanky waif by the bar. Finishing the show in a howl of squealing feedback, I crowdsurfed over to where he was standing. He had a cherubic face, looking very beautiful in his red fusiliers’ jacket, ripped jeans and brogues. In a soft, whimsical voice, he introduced himself as ‘Peter Doherty’, and complimented the gig and my Victorian corset. ‘I’m going to call you Katie Corset. What are you doing now? Would you like to join me at the Albion Rooms?’ Not knowing what he meant, and thinking it was some trendy new club, I wrinkled my nose. He fixed me with a doe-eyed look. ‘It’s where I live in Bethnal Green… we can have an afterparty.’
Location: MK Gallery