Red-haired goths

The lead character in my book-in-progress, Chloe, was a goth in her late teens. For the flashbacks to this phase, I've been trying to pin down how she would have related to the Brisbane goth scene in the late 80s if she chose to keep her red hair -- maybe with some purple streaks. Could she have been credible?

One of my research tactics was to google 'redhead goth'. After 20 pages of nothing but porn sites, I was reeling. WTF! So then I googled 'blonde goth' for comparison. The results were far more innocent. Mostly girly hair and makeup advice, with only a peppering of porn.

I don't know why I was surprised. Redheads are stereotyped, rightly or wrongly, as passionate, lustful and feisty. Throw in the dark, disaffected, demonic stereotype of goths, and you've got a marketable fantasy it seems.

Anyway, I'm thinking Chloe wouldn't have dyed her hair black, no matter what others thought. She's not a slave to anything or anyone.

Do redheads fancy each other?

Lately I’ve been trawling through redhead social networking sites to reality check the outrageous generalisations I hold dear about our subset. There’s so much to say, but for now I want to concentrate on one issue: do we fancy each other?

Some men seem shocked that fellow fanta-pants can resist their charms or even go urgh / eeww / yuk at the prospect of getting it off together.

Based on my extensive pop psych readings and chick chat, here’s the lowdown. People tend to learn how to be themselves from their same-sex parent and how to relate to the opposite sex from their o-s one. So, more than we care to admit, gals tend to go for men who resemble their dads, unless of course they had such a bad relationship that they try to avoid that type like the plague. The resemblance doesn’t have to be physical, but it often is.

Take me for instance. My father had black hair and hazel eyes. Guess what? This is my type. I appreciate red-haired men aesthetically, and gravitate to them as pals, but have always been repulsed by the idea of sex. It would be like doing it with my brother, bizarre as that might seem, because my actual brother has brown hair. It’s never been an issue, though. Gingers have rarely made a move on me.

But – and here’s a lifetime insight – the fireworks really only happen when I happen to be the type for my type. The love of my life is a dark-haired, hazel-eyed man who prefers redheads. His mother wasn’t a redhead, but she was freckled and the gene is in his family.

Now if all this sounds loopy or creepy to you, guys, I’m not surprised. But if you happen to fancy redheads, try asking this question early in the chat-up phase – “Where does your colouring come from? Your mum or your dad?” If her dad’s a redhead, I’ll bet you you’ve got a much better chance of getting somewhere.