At 17 years I weighed only 94-lbs and I fixated on a pair of hipster trousers which I wore everywhere, as it showed off my curves to perfection. It had a red heart-shaped patch sewn smack in the middle of the backside which read 'Kiss My Patch' and I loved to imagine the effect of more conservative people walking behind me and reading it! It seemed so cheeky and risqué then but incredibly twee now.

It was a time when Bob Marley and the Wailers were just a fledgling group, standing on a street corner off Connolly Avenue in Kingston, Jamaica, practising their art and constantly teasing young girls, like me and my sixth form friends, to attract our attention. Often telling us how 'sweet and innocent' we looked, and said with a wicked smile of appreciation. We paid little attention, of course, because 'nice girls' did not respond, only smiled coyly and kept moving. We knew by then that, if it were left up to them, we would not have been 'sweet and innocent' for long!

The young Wailers too were at their first staging post, a long way from their firm Rastafarian principles, with their hair cropped in very short Afros and their musical enthusiasm rife. Their first song, Put It On, was just about to take off, though they didn't know it then. A year before my hipster pants, I had got my first job earning a meagre £6 per week as secretary to the popular singer, Prince Buster, regarded as good wages then! It introduced me to the amazing machinations of the Jamaican music industry, and I was soon to be caught up in a musical war between pioneering music mogul and singer Prince Buster, and another well-known singer, Derrick Morgan. There was also a brief friendship with the very talented Jimmy Cliff, who was just a boy next door at his mother's house off the Spanish Town Road, hungry for success and doing the rounds with his records.

More conservative in age

It was a fascinating and exciting world which everyone took in their stride. Singers were just ordinary members of the community, no matter how famous they were, and, at that young age, I could not appreciate what it would mean by the time I was 55 because the young do not think in long-term ways. I was also not experienced or knowledgeable enough to recognise the music scene's global potential or significance. Our little island music seemed so isolated then until the advent of Millie Small, Prince Buster and, of course, Robert Nesta Marley who took it to the greatest heights and became a worldwide icon. How could I have known then, while exchanging teasing smiles and cheeky comments with him, that he would become the world's most famous Rastafarian?

I would never wear that patch on my bum now, 40 years on, having naturally emerged more 'conservative' in actions due to age and experience, and I still have it as a keepsake to remind me of my 'wilder' days! But, at that time, I wanted to attract attention, to appear appealing to the men around me and to compete against my female rivals. I wore the skimpiest of tops, the shortest of mini-skirts that left little to the imagination and hipster jeans that showed off my assets to good effect. It seems like the past coming back to haunt me whenever I see today's young women doing exactly the same thing in their hipsters, mini-skirts and even skimpier tops, believing they are much more modern than we used to be, and it is so déjà vu and so very, very funny.

Altogether, this was a time when I was terribly naive, and unconsciously sought the kind of control in a partner I already had from my mother. By the time I had reached Staging Post 3, I had matured to such an extent, I valued independence even more and resented such control. The seeds of my own discontent were already being sown from then on.