Dedicated to those women I grew up watching, not on tv, but in real-life.
When I was a little girl I thought my female teenage cousins were the shit! We came from a large family with many aunts, uncles, and kids, but there was a recognizable divide between those considered children - around 12 and under - and those who most certainly were not ever to be mistaken or miscategorized as a child - 16 and up.
At family parties, these 4 or 5 young women would gather in a bedroom covered wall-to-wall with Prince or Pat Benatar posters, blasting extremely loud American Bandstand favorites, and plot the newest yet not terribly inventive way they were going to dupe their parents this weekend. Naturally, us younger kids weren't allowed in that bedroom for more than it takes to tell someone the food's ready, but in that instant you could pick up a strong collective whiff of freshly-popped Bubble Yum, plastic jelly-bean sandals, and Aqua Net...a lot of Aqua Net.
The hair defied gravity. I don't know what was going on in the Big-Hair state of Texas, but what these girls were doing could certainly rival it and any impenetrable bird's nest. From what I could gather, a few vital steps were necessary to achieve this look:
1. blow dry wet hair
2. tease like your life depends on it - leave no hair unteased
3. comb and use fingers to shape
4. hair spray until it's no longer safe to secretly light a cigarette in your room
One last thing to remember, your hair should be proportionately larger than your flourescent hoop earrings. And the bigger the hoops, the better.
There's a picture of two of my cousins, sisters, wearing off-the-shoulder polka dot blouses, turquoise blue beads dangling around their necks, and bright pink plastic Ray-Bans. They're both puckering their lips seductively to the camera. "Man, that's cool!" I remember thinking to myself. "They don't care what anybody thinks. I wish I was just like them." One boring day, some of my cousins thought it would be fun to play Photo Shoot - one of the few pretend situations they weren't too cool for - where we all throw tons of makeup on, dress crazy, and take pictures like supermodels. They did our makeup for us, the little girls, then got decked out in my aunt's halter dresses and heels. We looked like little made-up dolls (think Geisha girl with tangled hair and a couple of baby teeth). They were beautiful. Sparkling brown eyes, tan skin, petite bodies, and natural charm for days. Beautiful.
No wonder so many boys came around when the cousins showed up. One guy cried right there in front of everybody when Lisa broke up with him. We all felt embarrassed for him. Lisa closed the front door and went inside to prep for her date. Me and my mom ran into this other guy at the video store who saw our last name and asked if we knew Stephanie. We said we did, as a matter of fact, and he told us that he had the biggest crush on her but every day she thought up new reasons not to talk to him in class. He had to give her credit for the time she sat with cotton balls in her ears while her friend explained that she had an ear infection and couldn't hear anything. But I can't talk about unsuspecting lovesick boys lured in by enchanting females without mentioning Raquel. She signed her name Rock-el in all the yearbooks when she graduated high school. Led Zeppelin, Van Halen, and Blondie were her favorites. She showed up to our family reunion in the park wearing skin-tight black jeans zipped up the back, fitted red and black Rolling Stones t-shirt cropped at the waist with the sleeves cut off, and her jet-black hair feathered out to perfection. Not the most appropriate setting for blood-red lipstick and half a tube of eyeliner but she knew how to pull it off. Minutes after her arrival, the reunion was notably larger than ever before with unfamiliar mustached faces circling her table.
Screw the Madonnas and Susana Hoffs, the Christie Brinkleys and Cindy Crawfords, the Demi Moores and Molly Ringwalds! My idols weren't on posters or the silver screen. They were live and in-person, and family.
Now let's take a moment of silence for those poor souls who pursued the siren's song, only to be crushed against the rocks.
When I was a little girl I thought my female teenage cousins were the shit! We came from a large family with many aunts, uncles, and kids, but there was a recognizable divide between those considered children - around 12 and under - and those who most certainly were not ever to be mistaken or miscategorized as a child - 16 and up.
At family parties, these 4 or 5 young women would gather in a bedroom covered wall-to-wall with Prince or Pat Benatar posters, blasting extremely loud American Bandstand favorites, and plot the newest yet not terribly inventive way they were going to dupe their parents this weekend. Naturally, us younger kids weren't allowed in that bedroom for more than it takes to tell someone the food's ready, but in that instant you could pick up a strong collective whiff of freshly-popped Bubble Yum, plastic jelly-bean sandals, and Aqua Net...a lot of Aqua Net.
The hair defied gravity. I don't know what was going on in the Big-Hair state of Texas, but what these girls were doing could certainly rival it and any impenetrable bird's nest. From what I could gather, a few vital steps were necessary to achieve this look:
1. blow dry wet hair
2. tease like your life depends on it - leave no hair unteased
3. comb and use fingers to shape
4. hair spray until it's no longer safe to secretly light a cigarette in your room
One last thing to remember, your hair should be proportionately larger than your flourescent hoop earrings. And the bigger the hoops, the better.
There's a picture of two of my cousins, sisters, wearing off-the-shoulder polka dot blouses, turquoise blue beads dangling around their necks, and bright pink plastic Ray-Bans. They're both puckering their lips seductively to the camera. "Man, that's cool!" I remember thinking to myself. "They don't care what anybody thinks. I wish I was just like them." One boring day, some of my cousins thought it would be fun to play Photo Shoot - one of the few pretend situations they weren't too cool for - where we all throw tons of makeup on, dress crazy, and take pictures like supermodels. They did our makeup for us, the little girls, then got decked out in my aunt's halter dresses and heels. We looked like little made-up dolls (think Geisha girl with tangled hair and a couple of baby teeth). They were beautiful. Sparkling brown eyes, tan skin, petite bodies, and natural charm for days. Beautiful.
No wonder so many boys came around when the cousins showed up. One guy cried right there in front of everybody when Lisa broke up with him. We all felt embarrassed for him. Lisa closed the front door and went inside to prep for her date. Me and my mom ran into this other guy at the video store who saw our last name and asked if we knew Stephanie. We said we did, as a matter of fact, and he told us that he had the biggest crush on her but every day she thought up new reasons not to talk to him in class. He had to give her credit for the time she sat with cotton balls in her ears while her friend explained that she had an ear infection and couldn't hear anything. But I can't talk about unsuspecting lovesick boys lured in by enchanting females without mentioning Raquel. She signed her name Rock-el in all the yearbooks when she graduated high school. Led Zeppelin, Van Halen, and Blondie were her favorites. She showed up to our family reunion in the park wearing skin-tight black jeans zipped up the back, fitted red and black Rolling Stones t-shirt cropped at the waist with the sleeves cut off, and her jet-black hair feathered out to perfection. Not the most appropriate setting for blood-red lipstick and half a tube of eyeliner but she knew how to pull it off. Minutes after her arrival, the reunion was notably larger than ever before with unfamiliar mustached faces circling her table.
Screw the Madonnas and Susana Hoffs, the Christie Brinkleys and Cindy Crawfords, the Demi Moores and Molly Ringwalds! My idols weren't on posters or the silver screen. They were live and in-person, and family.
Now let's take a moment of silence for those poor souls who pursued the siren's song, only to be crushed against the rocks.
Something about adolescence brings out the daring in us. It fades a bit as we get older, but the memories live forever and you've documented it well here. I feel like ripping the sleeves off of a t-shirt and buying some pumps ;)
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