My picture, in case you're wondering, only includes the cake. Nothing else. It's not a self-portrait... or even a 'selfie', which is entirely different. In my personal dictionary, 'self-portrait' refers to an accurate photographic representation, perhaps taken with the aid of a tripod and clockwork timer, while a selfie is an exaggerated low-quality wide-angle picture that gives its subject the eyes of a bush-baby and the chin of Dick Dastardly. Anyway, it's not one of those. Neither is it a 'cakie', which is undoubtedly what a cake/selfie hybrid will end up being called at some point.
Having taken the photo, I realise there's nothing to give it any context. Although my only aim was to avoid including my face, I've actually managed to exclude all sense of time. This, when I think about it, is what makes most archive pictures so fascinating. We're not just interested in seeing great-grandfather's face; we're equally fascinated by his sense of fashion. The hat, the sideburns, the shirt: it's his clothes and hair that really intrigue us. The same goes for films and TV. James Cameron's 1997 movie Titanic used cutting-edge digital technology to recreate the ship yet still managed to give Leonardo DiCaprio a haircut from 85 years in the future. Star Trek might be set in the 23rd century but the styling of the original series was rooted in the 1960s. Its 'space hippies' episode (stardate 5832.3, or 1969 if you prefer) has aged particularly badly.
Now, I don't mind occasionally detailing my failings. But I don't want to become a laughing stock simply because I've followed the same social norms and societal pressures as most of my contemporaries. So what can I do about photos? Well, I'm beginning to formulate a plan. What if my pictures were impossible to date? What if the archaeologists of the future couldn't ascertain where or when I'd existed? I'm going to buy some replica Norman armour from the castle gift shop and a toy robot from Wickle. I may even wear a wig. The next time I take a cakie, it'll be impossible to work out what era I'm living in. Most importantly, my new props will prevent me from looking stupid.
First published in Viva Lewes magazine issue 97 October 2014.
