We're proper Oasis superfans who fell in love over iconic group & got married – we even named our son after band member
LOVE FOREVER We're proper Oasis superfans who fell in love over iconic group & got married – we even named our son after band member
Click to share on X/Twitter (Opens in new window)
Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
WHEN Oasis announced they were reforming last year, most of the nation gasped in shock, got super- excited . . . and then went back to their daily lives.
But for some, the reunion was what they had spent years of their lives discussing, analysing and hoping, wishing and praying for.
12
Emily Cleary met future husband Jamie as a teenager on a bus to her first Oasis gig
Credit: Emily Cleary
Because when original members Liam, Noel, Bonehead, Guigsy and Tony McCarroll burst on to the scene in 1994, Oasis changed their lives for ever.
Here, we speak to five superfans who met their partners or found their calling through the band.
"I always loved bumping into this guy who had been on the journey with me from the start" - Emily Cleary
MUM-OF-TWO Emily, 47, from Gerrards Cross, Bucks, met future husband Jamie as a teenager at her first Oasis gig. She says:
"I first set eyes on Jamie when I sat next to him on an eight-hour coach trip to Paris in 1995.
12
Emily and Jamie are now married with two children
Credit: Emily Cleary
12
Emily at age 16, the year she met Jamie
Credit: Supplied
12
And After All: A Fan History Of Oasis tells the story of the band's superfans
Credit: Melissa Locker
I was 16 and had somehow convinced my mum I would be perfectly safe travelling with a group of four boys to the French capital to watch a rock 'n' roll band play at the Bataclan.
While my girl friends were into Take That, I was obsessed with Oasis.
And as we boarded the 5am bus from London's Victoria, I sat down next to Jamie, who I only knew through mutual friends.
Liam Gallagher reveals new details about Oasis tour – before quickly deleting post
We travelled to Paris, watched Oasis bring the house down, and I returned a lifelong fan.
The gig was amazing, so we decided to go to Glastonbury to watch them a few months later.
That appearance at Glasto was the first time we heard Don't Look Back In Anger, and I remember my spine tingling as I looked at Jamie.
This was something special.
Time passed and over the next ten years I saw Oasis at Knebworth, Earls Court, Wembley and more.
Sometimes I'd bump into Jamie and I'd always love seeing this guy who had been on the Oasis journey with me from the beginning – and I rather fancied him.
12
Emily and Jamie's inscribed wedding rings
Credit: Supplied
As I approached 30, Facebook was invented and Jamie and I got back in touch properly.
We started to plan a Glastonbury trip and book gigs to go to, including Oasis at the Eden Project.
Friendship developed into more, and soon we were a couple.
So in July 2009 and newly engaged, off we traipsed to Cornwall to watch what was to be one of their last gigs.
Shortly after failing to catch Liam's tambourine, we got married, and now have two kids.
The first song played when we were married was Live Forever, and our wedding rings are both inscribed with 'Live Forever'.
On Friday, Jamie and I, plus two of the original Paris group, will travel to Cardiff to see Oasis's first reunion gig.
A month later we will take our kids to Wembley to watch them.
Everything has come full circle."
"After I met Justin briefly at a concert, the universe just kept throwing us back together" - Lisa Marks
LISA, 41, from Canada, met her husband Justin through their love of Oasis – and named her children after them. She says:
"My son Liam, 13, was named after, well, Liam, and my 11-year-old daughter Jill is named after one of the band's most legendary photographers, Jill Furmanovsky.
12
Canadian Lisa met her husband Justin through their love of Oasis – and named her children after them
Credit: Supplied
12
Lisa with her hero Noel
Credit: Supplied
12
Lisa with Liam, who she named her son after
Credit: Supplied
But it didn't just inspire my parenting, it shaped my entire life. I met Justin through a shared love of the band
We walked down the aisle to Round Are Way, and even had 'OASISGRL' as the licence plate on my old Pontiac.
I first discovered Oasis aged 12 in 1996.
The song I love the most is Whatever. I had a hard time in school.
I was bullied and ended up changing schools.
It made me feel, 'F*** you all. I'm going to be whatever I want to be'.
While my classmates went mad for the Spice Girls, I launched The Liam Lover's Club, sold Oasis bootlegs on eBay and had the email address 'timeforliam'.
Then on June 17, 2005, I met Justin briefly at an Oasis gig.
12
Lisa reconnected with Justin at a Noel solo gig
Credit: Supplied
I was in a relationship at the time, but we stayed in touch through MSN Messenger, swapping messages about Oasis news and ticket sales.
Later, when I was single in 2006, I reconnected with him while buying a gift at HMV – after spotting a Liam Gallagher photo taped to the till and discovering from the cashier that Noel would be playing locally.
When I messaged Justin about it he revealed that he was working at HMV, it was his picture of Liam taped to the till that I'd seen and it was his tip – from a music industry pal – that I'd heard about.
The universe just kept throwing us back together.
We reunited at a Noel acoustic gig in November 2006 and got together not long after.
It was so corny but our first kiss was while Wonderwall was playing.
We married in September 2010, with matching rings engraved with 'I U OASISGRL' and 'And7 we can slide away'.
Lisa also tells her story in And After All: A Fan History Of Oasis by Melissa Locker. Re- printed by permission of Gallery Books, an Imprint of Simon & Schuster, LLC
"I've been mistaken for Liam" - Steve Brown
THE 46-year-old from Basildon, Essex, went from fan to lead singer in tribute band Oasiz. He says:
"From the moment I clapped eyes on Oasis blasting out Some Might Say on Top Of The Pops in 1995, I knew life would never be the same.
12
Steve Brown went from fan to lead singer in tribute band Oasiz
Credit: @alwpix_theatre
I was just 16. I went from having a curtains haircut and listening to Whigfield to having the basin haircut, getting the baggy checked shirts and walking around in shades even when the sun wasn't out.
I kept scrapbooks with every news-paper cutting.
No matter how small it might seem, like news Liam had had a haircut, I'd make sure I had it.
Within weeks, I'd started teaching myself how to play the guitar.
I started writing songs and then in 2005 I formed Oasiz, with my older brother Marcus as Noel, while still working a day job in exports.
Five years later, I went full-time, performing as Liam Gallagher in the tribute band but also doing solo gigs in character.
In 2023 a video I performed in racked up more than half a million views, with some fans convinced I was the real Liam.
But Oasis didn't just shape my career, the band shaped my entire life.
I met Gary Ayres, the bassist in Oasiz, 25 years ago and we're still best mates.
And while gigging at a hotel in Ibiza in 2012, I met Melanie, then 33 and on holiday with family.
The spark was instant and we married just six months later."
"I started calling people Our Kid" - Felix White
FELIX, 40, is guitarist for indie band The Maccabees and a presenter on cricket podcast Tailenders. He says:
"(What's The Story) Morning Glory? became the first LP I owned. It was better than any-thing I could have ever imagined.
12
The Maccabees' guitarist Felix White grew up as a huge Oasis fan
Credit: Getty
Oasis had taken my confusion and searching and turned it into words.
The information that they sent into my infatuated mind, however, could at times be quite confusing.
Rock 'n' roll was the only form of music worth listening to. Got it. The Boyzone and Eternal tapes were dispensed to the bin.
Guitars were the best. Yep. Synthesisers were terrible. I didn't know what one was, but agreed.
Rock 'n' roll was about being yourself. Noted.
It's just that in the same breath, they seemed to not approve of anyone who was 'themselves' and wasn't, well, them.
Fashioning an upbringing from Burnage, Manchester, when you live next to Wandsworth Common in South London is a complicated manoeuvring act.
But I had faith that I could achieve it if I made sure I was exposed to Oasis at all times of the day.
Before I'd sleep I would plan what Oasis song I would listen to first thing the next morning, fast-forwarding the cassette to the position.
I learned the interviews completely by heart. I would now refer to people as 'our kid'.
I looked at Noel Gallagher on the cover of There And Then, the live Oasis video.
I studied every face in the crowd fixed exclusively on him, all joined together in communal worship.
He had achieved all that with a guitar. I knew the only way to make sense of my life from here was to, somehow, get myself there too."
It's Always Summer Somewhere: A Matter Of Life And Cricket, by Felix White, £9.99, published by Cassell.
"No Oasis? I'd be pretty boring" - Rob Fiddaman
THE DJ, music historian and radio host, from Stoke-on-Trent, got in early on collecting Oasis memorabilia. He says:
"I was 17, driving home, when Live Forever came on the radio.
12
Rob Fiddaman got in early on collecting Oasis memorabilia
Credit: Rob Fiddaman
We were so used to hearing boybands crooning on bar stools, but to hear this guitar-driven music on the radio changed everything.
I went to see Oasis in 1996 at Knebworth and that sealed the deal.
I'd always been a music collector, but around 2010 I noticed that no one was selling Oasis memorabilia.
So, I started buying bits and bobs for fun.
Then I got a phone call from Alan McGee, the record label owner who'd signed Oasis in 1993.
'Either you're f***ing mad, or you're a genius,' he said to me.
And he asked me to sell some of his Oasis stuff for charity.
Then I started selling and valuing things for ex-bandmembers too.
In 2014, the band's managers asked me to value items for the exhibition Oasis: Chasing The Sun.
On opening night, I was a bit early so I went to the pub next door.
I walked in and a guy went, 'Hi Rob!' It was Brian Cannon, who was the band's original art director.
He introduced me to Paul Gallagher, Liam and Noel's brother.
Then Bonehead joined us, by which point I was feeling pretty rock 'n' roll.
Then the guys said, 'We're going to meet Liam now.
And, soon enough, I was drinking pornstar martinis with my idol.
Over the years, I've somehow become the go-to Oasis guy.
I've made 100 BBC appearances and written a book, Buying Into Britpop.
I'm constantly DJ-ing, and I've just set up my own record label, Deadly Records.
Oasis changed my life. Without them, I'd be a pretty boring guy."
Unlock even more award-winning articles as The Sun launches brand new membership programme - Sun Club.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Telegraph
an hour ago
- Telegraph
The raucous, uncensored 1990s was an extraordinary era for fashion. No wonder Hollywood is all in
What is it about the 1990s that's so much more interesting than the decades just before and after it – and still relevant? Oasis has dominated the summer. CDs are on the cusp of a vinyl-style revival and a clutch of films about Kate Moss, Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy and Isabella Blow are heading to our screens. Meanwhile, Gen Z has been raiding the era for so long, they risk squandering any chance to leave a sartorial and cultural mark on their own decade. But maybe the lure is so powerful, they don't care. Can you be nostalgic for something you never had? CS Lewis argued powerfully that you could in a 1941 essay, The Weight of Glory. It's a sense that something's missing from your life; a yearning for what you intuitively feel was a simpler time. You could go to a rock concert or the Royal Opera without being hectored by protestors. You didn't necessarily know, nor care, how your friends voted. Cancellation happened to trains (some things never change), not people. In a rare departure from its post-war status quo, Britain seemed bathed in optimism. After Black Wednesday the country's finances defied the economists' predictions and boomed. Films, YBAs, music and fashion were the super novas of the UK's soft power. How were we to know that famous Vanity Fair cover with Liam Gallagher and Patsy Kensit was only on the British version of the magazine? A young couple (ie, my husband and I) working in the burgeoning 'creative industries' could live in London on their combined non-banker salaries, buy an airy Victorian house overlooking a park in an up-and-coming, relatively central area – and pay for a nanny. We even had a classical Pilates studio close by. When I think how rare that was and how ubiquitous Pilates is now, I realise there have been some gains. But back to the rose-tinted specs. The creative industry I worked in was magazines. Unlike Isabella Blow (Izzie), the aristocratic eccentric famous for nurturing a sizeable chunk of the British fashion industry – most notably Lee McQueen (or Alexander as she decided he should be called) – who sat across the Vogue corridor from me for around five years, I wasn't a stylist, but a writer. Less glam, but frequently in the same room as the supermodels and photographers who were shaping the decade's aesthetic. I interviewed them all. Christy was the most spiritual; Cindy the most laser-focused; Helena the most down to earth (she happily jumped into the Vogue mini bus between shows in Paris); Linda the one who took it all the most seriously; Naomi initially cute, adorable and adoring; and Kate, the one about to embark on the biggest journey. In 1993, when I first interviewed her, she was unaffected and delightfully giggly. Most people had no idea she'd become a cultural flashpoint, encapsulating all that was light and dark about the period or that she and Lucian Freud, who became as fascinated by her as everyone else, would be the subjects of one of those forthcoming biopics. (She's played by Ellie Bamber, while Derek Jacobi is Freud.) They were stupendous to look at and Botox- and filler-free. They also set punishingly high beauty standards. There were no agents, managers or publicists at these interviews. I'm not sure when they became a fixture. The contrast between then and now is best summed up by the two I did, 25 years apart, with Miuccia Prada. The first was 1993; she had two little boys whose presence was very much evident in the stylish apartment she and her husband, Patrizio Bertelli, inhabited in Milan. She whizzed us around her neighbourhood in her teeny Fiat, showing me her favourite hangouts. Two decades later, shortly before she was due to collect an award in London, I flew to Milan to interview her again. This time it took place in her austere office in the Prada complex and was closely monitored by one of her team, who then emailed me afterwards with a plea to expunge anything remotely controversial. Mrs Prada, like everyone else in fashion, film and music, was terrified of getting cancelled. God knows how Izzie would have coped with cancel culture. She was eyebrow-raisingly uncensored; her conversation a raucous, unfiltered account of disastrous sexcapades, her precarious finances and infectious enthusiasm for the seemingly never-ending stream of talent she kept finding in British fashion colleges. She was a collision of so many worlds: landed gentry and high fashion, what she called penury and jet set; screwball comedy and ultimately, tragedy. Acutely fascinated by and partially resistant to class distinctions, she wanted everyone to rise to her social level, which even in the 1990s seemed to belong to another century. I can't wait to see what actress Andrea Riseborough makes of her in the Queen of Fashion, the film of her life. Alexandra Shulman, one of Izzie's editors, is played by Michelle Dockery. Coincidentally, Izzie and I both moved from Vogue to a certain newspaper company then based in Wapping. I would sometimes see her stumbling along the highway in her rackety heels – her shoes always wobbled, her hats were always skew-whiff . This was before the epicentre of London shifted several miles to the east. Wapping might as well have been Perth. Her mad millinery and the signature red lipstick that was invariably splattered in the vague vicinity of her mouth meant flagging down a black taxi (no Uber back then) was a hit and miss undertaking. I'd grind to a halt alongside her in my Mini (it was strictly no stopping on the highway) and she'd clamber in, an assistant – who'd been dispatched to the other side of the highway to double their chances of nabbing a cab – scrambling in with several sack loads of clothes, behind her. One story we worked on together about Bella Freud culminated in Izzie literally flinging herself at the feet of the art director begging for his forgiveness. She was in charge of styling the models (including Yasmin le Bon) and her brief was to make them look natural and spontaneous. By the time I arrived to do the interviews, the models were coated head to toe in white clay to make them look like statues. Brief not fulfilled. Pictures killed. She might have seemed a vortex of chaos but she trained her assistants brilliantly. I was always happy to take them on after an Izzie induction. One of them, in particular, was a paragon of efficiency – although she did plaster the pinboard behind her with pictures of herself which had largely been shot by Steven Meisel, Conde Nast's star photographer. That was Plum Sykes, who would later pen best-selling comedies of manners that read like a high-end travel agent's road map of the past 30 years. Having begun with Bergdorf Blondes in 1990s New York, her most recent is a chronicle of the heli-pad set in the Cotswolds. Fashion hadn't yet become an industrial complex dominated by three main groups, LVMH, Kering and Inditex. Designers were exploring some concepts such as minimalism, for what felt like the first time. I recently caught myself trying to manifest a dark navy Jil Sander cocoon coat I had from the period. Jil Sander, Yohji Yamamoto and Helmut Lang, from whom I bought one trouser suit, were the architects of that pared-back rigour that would be recycled and reduced 30 years later on Instagram and TikTok , somewhat tediously, as 'quiet luxury'. We had far fewer clothes then, even at Vogue. Fast fashion didn't really get going until the Noughties. That was good. So was not being run over by twerps on e-scooters. On the other hand, e-bikes have made getting around our cities fun again. We didn't, for better or worse, have Spotify, streamers, sourdough, social media, hand-held clothes steamers, sexy looking flat screens – and that's just the S category. I wore that Lang trouser suit well into the new millennium, until the seat of the trousers wore out. Form followed function – a refreshing switch from the gaudy 1980s. Those bias-cut slip dresses skirts and dresses, ribbed skinny T-shirts, Prada camel coats, sinuous, any-colour-so-long-as-it's-black cocktail dresses and the 'natural make-up pioneered by Bobbi Brown in 1991 still seem current. Three enduring shots sum up the decade's louche but elegant glamour: Kate Moss in a Narciso Rodriguez sheath dress on the arm of Johnny Depp (before we knew about his feet of clay); Brad and Gwyneth, in a red Tom Ford for Gucci velvet suit (before we knew he was, as Gwyneth later allegedly said, 'dumber than a sack of s--t'); Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy, a one-time VIP dresser at Calvin Klein, pacing through Manhattan or Martha's Vineyard, like a hunted doe, with John F Kennedy Junior. But other images tell a different story: shell suits, whale tails, lads, ladettes and bad fake tans. 'The late 90s was pretty naff and ugly,' creative director of Joseph (another beloved 1990s label still going), Mario Areno, reminded me recently. The clothes aren't the only aspect of the 1990s that have been run through a nostalgic filter. There was plenty that was dark about the decade. A pre-digital era sounds relaxing but it fostered an environment where outrageous behaviour happened out of sight. When I was commissioned to write a feature about the cult of so-called 'heroin chic' (which saw models being propped up on pillows for shoots because they were so out of it they couldn't sit up) the industry closed ranks. No one would talk about it on or off the record. Size zero was as prevalent as racial and body diversity were rare. It was, like any time, complicated, contradictory, bookended by Margaret Thatcher and the poll tax riots and The Spice Girls and Cool Britannia. The Priory – a rehab clinic in west London – did huge business, but a nascent wellness industry was also germinating. It was party, party, party and you came home reeking of fags because, apart from the Tube, you could smoke everywhere. The comedown, as Izzie, who took her own life in 2007 discovered, could be brutal.
Metro
2 hours ago
- Metro
‘This Laura Mercier setting spray is utterly budgeproof - even in a heatwave'
Metro journalists select and curate the products that feature on our site. If you make a purchase via links on this page we will earn commission – learn more Laura Mercier has a whole host of reliable make-up products many know and love (me included), whether it's the primer, Caviar Stick eyeshadow, blushers, concealer or setting powder. I rely on a setting spray to hold my make-up look in place come day and night, summer and winter. While I have been an avid fan of the iconic Translucent Setting Powder for longer than I can remember, I now have a new favourite from Laura Mercier – the Translucent Hydrating Setting Spray Ultra Blur. Not only does this setting spray hold my make-up in place for hours, but even during a wedding on a blistering hot August day, and plenty of dancing, it stayed put – for me, the bride, and other bridesmaids, which says a lot! A skincare and make-up hybrid as this setting spray has been formulated with hyaluronic acid, French mineral water to hydrate the skin, white lily extract and ectoin to soothe and protect the skin barrier, as well as niacinamide to minimise pores. The spray projects like a very gentle mist, which is not irritating nor does it spoil the make-up. BUY NOW FOR £32 There are many reasons I love Laura Mercier's Translucent Setting Spray Ultra-Blur, and it's safe to say it certainly lives up to its name. This setting spray holds make-up in place for 24-hours, but also offers a blurred finish that leaves the complexion looking utterly flawless. I'd even go as far as to say my skin looks airbrushed after using it. I was recently trusted to complete my best friend's wedding day make-up, and this was the product I knew I had to include as a final step to hold in place, which it did. After hours of wear, on a hot August day, dancing for hours, happy tears, her make-up stayed put. What stands this setting spray out from the crowd is it is a make-up and skincare hybrid. According to Space NK it's '98.5% skincare-based formula'. This setting spray has been formulated with hyaluronic acid, French mineral water for a boost of hydration, white lily extract and ectoin to protect the skin barrier, which I think is key as some setting sprays have been known to cause my skin to breakout, except this. It is also enriched with niacinamide to reduce the appearance of fine lines, pores and breakouts. This setting spray is alcohol free so it is not drying on the skin either – another win! What is also worth raving about is that this spray is more like a micro-fine mist, not an aerosol, or a fierce watery spray that fires in your eye (IYKYK). This setting spray prevents make-up from smudging, transferring, creasing, caking, and getting clogged in pores, plus it's not tacky or tight either. I simply can't rave about it enough, and I'm not the only one. More Trending One Space NK shopper, who goes under the handle ESRL85, shared: 'I'm so fussy when it comes to setting sprays especially for drier skin but I really like this one. On initial application it gives a really gentle mist release that gives the skin a hydration hit without being overly shiny or dewy. It settles make-up and powder instantly and dries to a soft focus finish. I would definitely say it prolongs the wear of make-up by keeping it fresher and hydrated. It definitely stops make-up breaking down and dehydrating on dry skin and also minimises the need for touch ups.' A separate shopper, named Hernameisaleks, added: 'Laura Mercier's Translucent Hydrating Setting Spray Ultra-Blur is a game changer for flawless, long-lasting make-up. The ultra-fine mist locks in your look without feeling heavy, while its hydrating formula keeps skin fresh and comfortable all day. It blurs imperfections beautifully, giving a smooth, soft-focus finish that looks natural. Perfect for dry or combination skin, it delivers both performance and skincare benefits in one elegant spritz.' While Libc praised: 'This setting spray works very well. I liked the fact that it produced a fine mist, not feeling at all heavy on my skin, and gives the skin some hydration and a nice glow without feeling at all greasy. It really did help my make up last all day – this may be my new favourite setting spray! Another great product from Laura Mercier.' Errr… we're stocking up whilst we can! Follow Metro across our social channels, on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram Share your views in the comments below MORE: Is it time for 'thigh guy summer'? The best short shorts for men amid UK heatwave MORE: I'll sleep soundly through the next heatwave thanks to this game-changing item from Oodie MORE: These setting sprays keep your makeup flawless – even when it's hot! Your free newsletter guide to the best London has on offer, from drinks deals to restaurant reviews.
The Guardian
2 hours ago
- The Guardian
The wild tale of a multimillion-dollar CEO who got thrown in jail: best podcasts of the week
Following her hit podcast Scamanda, host Charlie Webster follows another twisty scandal. Candace Rivera built a flawless online brand as a divorced single mother, nurse and CEO of multimillion-dollar companies. But was any of it actually real? Webster unpicks what was happening behind the scenes and the events that ultimately led to this 'unicorn girl' being sentenced to a minimum of three years in prison. Hollie RichardsonWidely available, episodes weekly This collaboration between BBC Studios and American giants iHeart tells the true story of a grim murder in Texas and a woman, Sandy Melgar, wrongfully convicted for the death of her husband, Jim. In a genre where grieving relatives are often bit-part players, the presence of their daughter, Lizz, pushes it above the competition. Hannah J Davies Widely available, episodes weekly It's an uncertain moment for the podcast world, as Wondery's true-crime treats may soon be absorbed into the Amazon stable. In the meantime, enjoy what it does best: a ripped-from-the-headlines hoot about a French town where the mayor devolved his power to the local psychic. Mon dieu! Anna Richardson and Leo Schick host. HJDWidely available, episodes weekly Sign up to What's On Get the best TV reviews, news and features in your inbox every Monday after newsletter promotion The Atlantic's podcast about Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath returns for a special 20th anniversary episode, and it's a stirring portrait of one family. Le-Ann Williams wants a better life for daughter Destiny, but – as host Vann R Newkirk II notes – 'maybe she's got it backwards … maybe they've got what other people are searching for'. HJDWidely available, out now Kavita Puri hosts a three-part series marking the 80th anniversary of VJ Day, and considering the events that preceded it – namely, Britain's often downplayed role in the war against Japan on the Asian front. There are even eyewitness testimonies, which are all the more impressive given just how long ago these events took place. HJDWidely available, episodes weekly
