I had an interesting discussion with Hasan, one of Kamran’s housemates. He is a skinny fellow who wears low-hanging, fitted jeans, greasy spiked hair, and a days old stubble. He works part time as a salesman for British Gas. Apparently his style of dress and living is very much the standard in East London. He adopted it soon after moving here from Pakistan, much to the chagrine of his cousin in West London. It comes with a care-free attitude and seems to pose a limit on bathing as well. In between his chain-smoking, Hasan related an incident when he had met the British-Indian girlfriend of a friend in West London. After sizing him up — camouflage pants, “I’m a Suicide Bomber” T-shirt, black & white checkered scarf, and generally disheveled look — she turned up her nose and asked with scorn, “Are you a fuckin’ East Londoner mela?” Mela as in dirty one. To my bemusement, I’ve noticed a similar reaction when I’ve told people here that I’m staying in East London.