Decadence in Christchurch

Driving to work this morning, I was passed by a somewhat aggressive driver. Swearing under my breath changed to laughter when I saw that his/her numberplate was DCK32. Does this mean that someone is CCK or CNT?  I think so. Best of all, we've reached F in the registration sequence. This must mean that someone somewhere has FCK.
   
    Now the Christchurch winter is all but here, the inhabitants have donned their habitual black, as if in mourning. You'd think people would want to jazz up their dress in this dark time, but no, black is winter de rigeur for the trendy office worker. With the ruined buildings, bare trees and dark clothing, Christchurch is starting to look like Berlin after the war; the Bridge of Remembrance is our Brandenburg gate, the steel barriers around the Red Zone our Wall.
     Or perhaps more like Berlin in the Weimar Republic days. For under the darkness, people crave colour and novelty. Proof of this is that the gay bars are doing a roaring trade in Christchurch, apparently attracting so many straights that the gays are getting annoyed. No longer can you, a gay man, stride up to a pretty boy at the bar and grab his arse; he's probably straight and won't thank you. He's only here for the ambience and to show his girlfriend how liberal he is.
     Personally, I've started to hum songs from Cabaret - wilkommen, bienvenue, welcome - and talk in broken German with a bad accent. ("Vere do you come from? A little spa town in Bavaaria called Bad Accent") And I'm starting to develop a fetish for things that lace up; corsets and  black ankle boots with vicious heels. I love the steampunk look, all black and red (oh! those are Canterbury colours!) top hats and whips and strange gizmos in metal.
     We've always had a reputation for being a dull city full of bourgeois worthy types. It's just not true; under our dark winter clothing we may wear red satin bustiers and jewelled and furred suspender belts.
      And as a parting comment, and further proof of our descent into decadence, I've noticed some very styly women lately, well-cut, well-tailored garments but with something edgy about the whole ensemble, like thigh-high stockings or a studded choker, a kind of extremely wealthy dominatrix look - as if she does it for fun, not for the money. Anyone else notice this? Is this the universal human response to difficult times? Escape it all by embracing one's inner kinkiness? Is this the new "Christchurch Look?" Hope so.