Pretty in black with pink petticoat

I went to bed at 8 p.m. last night after watching Pretty in Pink (for what is probably the twentieth time). Grumpy and irritable, I just wanted to sleep. Forty something and menopausal. Does Molly Ringwald see her youthful self on film and get depressed? Does she long for her teenage self, that skin, that hair? I know I wish I could feel and look young again if only for a day.

A memory comes barging in, one of me in a theater watching Pretty in Pink. Marveling at seeing some of us on the screen. The year is 1986. Don’t know who I’m with. But I know who I am. A preppy sophomore just morphing to punk rock girl. That was the same year I dyed my hair blue black and pierced my nose. Watching Pretty in Pink back then, I was overjoyed at the soundtrack that included my favorite music: The Smiths, Echo and the Bunnymen and New Order. Sitting in my seat munching popcorn and drinking a Diet Coke, I swooned over Duckie’s Morrissey like coif. Add in his John Lennon specs, his vests and his white scuffed Creepers and I was in love. And he loved Andie for all the right reasons. Andie’s working class neighborhood, her high GPA and DIY wardrobe made us all cheer for her. She was smart but different, like me. And together, her and Duckie were a great couple. Let's not talk about Blaine please. I am one of those who never got the attraction.

What I liked even more was how Duckie and Andie showed punk rock attitude without a mohawk. The concept (or maybe better called a theory) that every misfit/punk in the 80s looked like Sid and Nancy is ridiculous. We were all into DIY clothes from thrifting. The cheaper the better. I favored large men’s blazers with thermals and men’s boxers. Paired with a concert tee and my skull or monkey boots,I was set for school. I wore my hair in waves. My friends in my punker portion of the quad dressed just as eclectic. Tracy had her own style and straight spiked up blond hair.  She wore outfits that were edgy. Her mom would take her to the garment district, Hollywood and the Judy’s outlet (I remember buying a Houndstooth coat there) in LA to shop. We both loved Contempo in the Montclair Plaza but it was too expensive. Melinda favored tight jeans and a leather jacket. Our friend Mike T dressed in jeans and an X shirt most days. Ultimately, it was more about the music. The clothing was always secondary.

I guess what I took away from watching Pretty in Pink is that you cannot recapture youth. It exists in that moment. In that time. And try as I might as an adult to recapture that sense of wonder and attitude from that time, I can't. But what I can do my friends is capture now. And I plan on bringing some of my punk attitude and wonder back into my life. Not just through my writing but also through my attire. Next concert, I am gonna say fuck it all and bring out my Betty Page pink petticoat and wear it under a black dress and dance in my head to Psychedelic Furs and imagine 1986 all over again.

Why you may ask?

Why not?