Another Way the 90’s Ruined My Life.
Ever hung out with a lady who’s a pretty large generational gap on you?
For instance, there was this gal who was probably in her late 30’s I used to work with. We’d go out for Happy Hour so she could troll for dudes, and inevitably she would end up trying to toss back her Tequila Sunrise as fast as she could for the liquid courage to saunter up to the guy with the Magnum’stache, denim jacket and Axl Rose bandana.
After a while I figured out it might not have been entirely that she was looking for some domestic abuse, after much research into her affinity to such things as Bum Equipment sweatshirts and Richard Marx cassette tapes, I discovered she was probably just a victim to the beauty standards of her youth.
Keep in mind this was a good four or five years ago. I’ve since aged and figured out, if I’m not careful, I’m going to be That 90’s Girl. You know there’s That 70’s Guy who prowls around in his Lynyrd Skynyrd shirts with his feathered skullet (not my Dad, jerk) and That 80’s Lady with the crusty bangs and the shoulder pads…
I blame shows like Roundhouse, Blossom and Clarissa explains it all for my 
troubles. Why did Six always wear the most bitchen hats EVER? How’s Clarissa know that orange overalls would look amazing over gold lame leggings?
It’s just not fair.
Keep in mind I wasn’t very old in the 90’s to begin with, but damn I could dress! I think the first move into fashionista was in 3rd grade. Somehow I understood that a black and white optical-illusion mini dress with a Blossom hat and black Doc Martens was COOL.
From there it only got worse. The Left-Eye Lopez shorts, the T-Boz haircut, the Gwen Stefani plaid pants, all leading up to the summer after 6th grade when my sister and I got too cool for the town we lived in.
Back to school shopping with Dad yeilded us Satin verbage t’s, plaid minis with matching thigh-highs, teddy bear backpacks, platform Sketchers and all of the junky chokers and peace sign rings we could handle. 
We still weren’t cool, we still had to walk home with the popular kids calling us geeks and lezzies, but we were decidedly the most stylish ladies in town.
Sometimes I think of the myriad of odd cuts and colors of attire I had ten years ago and just fiend for my GURL halter top and shot-bead necklaces.
Somtimes I want to leave the house looking like Cher Horowitz…sometimes I almost leave the house looking like a prehab Courtney Love.
I always end up stopping myself…
…but I don’t think I will anymore.
I was pouring over my eX-files the other night and noticed my trend of falling for boys who look decidedly stuck in the decade as well.
I flipped through the photos- Johnny Rzenik, Luke Perry, Billie Joe Armstrong, Adam Sandler.
Gimme a dude anyday whose hair grows straight up and has both ears pierced. Bonus for any guy in polyester pants with a chain wallet and a Dickies jacket.
I know it’s bad to be fixated, but I keep on believing, somewhere in The Ethos he’s waiting there in his Mr. T Experience t shirt, humming a Superdrag song waiting for me to show up in my babydoll dress with thigh highs and platform sneakers…
