Dan Single

Dan Single is one of the top influencer with 21613 audience and 0.87% engagement rate on Instagram. Check out the full profile and start to collaborate.

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DIARY OF A NAUGHTIES KID - Book launch by Daniel Single at Australia Fashion week. A 333 page book that documents the rise of Ksubi and the transformative collective known as THE BANG GANG. Thank you for having me Dan xx

2025-10-10

241

Diary of a Naughtie Kid” is a 333-page beautiful mess of fashion, music, models, and madness from the noughties — 2000 to 2010. From the birth of Tsubi to Bang Gang mayhem — love letters, hate mail, and ‘The Fagazine’ all included. Told through Dan Single’s personal photos, diary entries, and raw interviews it’s a nostalgic dive into a rebellious generation shaped before social media. Low-res memories. High-res chaos. ????️ Digital installation supported by Powerhouse ???? Premieres tonight at @afcaustralianfashionweek ???? Details in bio.

2025-10-10

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A 333-PAGE BEAUTIFUL MESS OF FASHION, MUSIC, MODELS, AND MADNESS FROM THE NOUGHTIES. 2000 - 2010. A collection of personal photos in low-res, friends photo's in high-res, stories from the beginnings of tsubi and The Bang Gang, interviews, journal entries, love letters, fan letters, hate mail, newspaper clippings, flyers, and a special edition of ‘The Fagazine’ filled with Bang Gang mayhem. PRE-ORDER NOW ????????????

2025-10-10

319

Thanks to @dermaltherapy Overnight Lip Repair, all the lips on all the pages of the Diary Of A Naughtie Kid models always be looking smooth and hydrated. Thank you for making this happen, couldn’t of done it without you ????

2025-05-24

@evohair Salty Dog Spray, fixes hair and puts out fires. Thank you for putting out this fire for the Diary Of A Naughtie Kid @afcaustralianfashionweek 2025. Couldn’t of done it without you ????

2025-05-24

Diary of a Naughtie Kid” is a 333-page beautiful mess of fashion, music, models, and madness from the noughties — 2000 to 2010. From the birth of Tsubi to Bang Gang mayhem — love letters, hate mail, and ‘The Fagazine’ all included. Told through Dan Single’s personal photos, diary entries, and raw interviews it’s a nostalgic dive into a rebellious generation shaped before social media. Low-res memories. High-res chaos. ????️ Digital installation supported by Powerhouse ???? Premieres tonight at @afcaustralianfashionweek ???? Details in bio.

2025-05-13

204

A 333-PAGE BEAUTIFUL MESS OF FASHION, MUSIC, MODELS, AND MADNESS FROM THE NOUGHTIES. 2000 - 2010. A collection of personal photos in low-res, friends photo's in high-res, stories from the beginnings of tsubi and The Bang Gang, interviews, journal entries, love letters, fan letters, hate mail, newspaper clippings, flyers, and a special edition of ‘The Fagazine’ filled with Bang Gang mayhem. PRE-ORDER NOW ????????????

2025-05-12

304

Losing your legs to a landmine would be bad. Or even worse, losing your two kids to landmine, RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, and then having to lose yourself. Not with a landmine, but with a noose; because you can’t live with the pictures in your mind. The pictures that came at the cost of your two kids. The pictures you didn’t even want, ever. The pictures you now have, always. Or watching your wife being raped, over and over, and then beaten and then raped again, as a war crime, and then being shot. And then you get shot. Just because there is a war. That’s no way to die, and it’s no way to live. Taking a tumble out of a fancy hotel in Paris and dying before you even know that you fell. That’s not a bad way to die. It’s definitely a stupid way to die. But it’s not the worst way to die. There is always, without a doubt, no matter how bad you think it is, someone who has got it worse, waaay worse than you. And I was alive! For a second time, or maybe it was the first time. I was actually alive. Me and my wheelchair problems were not even a worry. And so I made all the times into the best of times, and before I knew it they turned into the “even better than the best of times”. And today, was, again, the best of the best of the best of times because I made them so. I am hidden somewhere on the vast continent of Africa, only because it feels right, because I want to be here. Nobody told me to be here. I work for the mentoring organisation, AIME, only because I want to, because working with kids, using my imagination and trying to create a fairer world feels right. Nobody told me I have to. I am writing a book, because there are a lot a lot of stories from the old life and I thought they might inspire something. Only because I want to. It feels right. Not for a publisher or for the $$$. I don’t even have one. Today, on my third birthday, as I am kissed by this beautiful Giraffe. I just wanna say THANK YOU. We don’t always know everything. The more I live the less I realise that I know. But the few pieces that I do know, I’m grateful for. One thing I do know though for sure, with a degree of certainty: wash your hands or that Corona Virus will get ya !

2020-03-10

395

My life was once, what can I say…a mesh of-the best of times, and then, I might say…it was, the worst of times. I did, many times, say, the worst of times. This is my story. Three years ago, today, 10 March, I was…D E A D…a mangled bleeding mess of what remained of a body on a sidewalk in Paris. The pavement took everything and barely noticed. Life happened and ended with a gasp, and I knew nothing of it. A great deal was left there. And then I lived. In the months that followed, in my wheelchair, with my heap of broken bones, and a never ending pain, and daily thoughts of suicide, I thought that everything I had was now lost, and everything I once had that was also lost, and I couldn’t live without either. I thought it was the worst of times. A mind preoccupied with itself, forced to surrender what it does not know how, struggles to know anything but itself. It cannot reason reality. And sure, they certainly were not MY best of times, compared to what this white privileged party boy with loads of friends and a beautiful wife was used to. But they definitely could’ve been worse times. I heard myself complaining, one day, as I heard myself complaining on many days, and the days seemed to be many, even though I could not count. SHUT THE FUCK UP, I said to myself as I bashed my head with my hands, the pain searing brief red stings that couldn’t last long enough to quell everything else that I wanted to disappear. And then I listened, and not just to my own problems, but to the problems around me. It’s impossible not to know what happens to some people, in some parts, in today’s world, if only you care to listen, if only you can put aside yourself. To be continued...

2020-03-10

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