Teen Years

Wow, I keep forgetting I am not 30. Keep thinking I am only 30. I'm well passed that. So hard to believe. Anything past 28 was never planned. Leggings and minis are already back. Do I dare? I still fit into my high school skirts. I just can't bring myself to do it because it went with my teen years. It goes way back, back, back.

When I first heard I Melt with You it was 1983 or 1984. I swooned. It was the song that single handedly catapulted me into my teens.
Sadly at the time,there was no romantic I Melt with you moment back then. Our fun was had sweating out the non-air conditioned used clothing warehouses where you tripped, fell over and drowned in huge heaps of vintage clothing. Nothing but 40 year old vintage clothing, some deadstock with tags still hanging on them. Scattered on the floor and coming in constantly, in barrels delivered by moving trucks, were beautiful 40 year old leather purses and shoes, wool suits, cotton dresses... all sold by the pound: 25 cents on the weekdays, 10 cents on the weekends. It was a dream that lasted a wonderful 4 years.

We'd take our cheap treasures home, wash and mend then go to the mall and swoon over John Hughes' movies at the triplex. There wasn't much else to do except make things, lots of things, some acrylic painting, crocheting, knitting, paper mache, a lot of visits to the library for their foreign films in addition to books and bios on Warhol and Edie, dancing and doing cartwheels with friends on Friday and Saturday nights in their backyard to the Pogues, Clash and Sex Pistols,REM,The Cure and everything else that was there and came along, eating crap every weekend and still getting a kid's sugar high, sitting on Claudia's roof at night drinking sugary drinks and talking about what we'd be like when we were old, like 28 or so, 30 was never mentioned, that was so far away and so very old. And that, my friends, is basically what I did for four long years. It was fun.