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↪︎ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐒 were an english punk band that began in 1975; they were one of the most influential british bands in history. the band consisted of lead singer johnny rotten (johnny lydon), bassist sid vicious (john ritchie), guitarist steve jones, and drummer paul cook.
seeing as they started one of the most uncanny yet magnificent fashion choices (70s punk), you jumped for joy when you saw that director danny boyle was searching for his perfect crew of actors to play as people from this movement.
after spending hours researching the sex pistols, you were prepared for your audition for the role of nancy spungen, the girlfriend of sid vicious. the casting directors put careful consideration into what character you would fit best at, and seeing that you and louis—your best friend—already knew each other (and he was a major consideration for the role of sid) they thought it was perfect.
filming this show was one of the best times of your life, and you were incredibly happy that the world would be able to see the true story of the sex pistols.
now, you were sitting in a bright room getting your hair and makeup done for one of the first interviews on your press tour. louis was sat next to you, drumming his fingers along his legs and watching james—his hair stylist—style his hair.
he had been talking to you a few months ago, explaining that since he grew his hair out for the role he is tempted to get a haircut similar to a mullet. you immediately rose your eyebrows, worried that he would ruin his hair—one of the many things going for him.
after he showed you a couple of photos, you stared at his hair with a smile growing on your face. he decided he would do it and neither him nor you hated the decision. you thought he looked fantastic, it sat atop his head beautifully and it definitely was not the nasty, stereotypical mullet.
"i'm nervous and excited." he breathed out, turning to you for a moment. "same, but it'll be fine." you reply, making eye contact with him in the mirror.
"i feel... nervcited." he grinned at the word he created as you chuckled at his silly behavior. "you're an idiot." you say with a smile widening on your face.
"you're a.. turd." he replies defeated, not being able to think of a come back. with a chuckle, you wave him off as your own hair stylist finished your hair. they set it in beautiful curls that cascaded down your back beautifully.
your makeup artist, david, created a short wing of eyeliner across your eyes and lined your lips with a dark mauve, finishing with some lipstick and gloss.
you felt beautiful, and one other person in the room sat next to you was admiring your finished look with a smile on his face. can you guess who it is?
you turned, noticing his stare and smiled, "you look nice." you blurted, accidentally speaking your thoughts as you stared at his freshly styled hair.
