The wet west coast of (Southern) New Zealand. Dancing, storming, moaning, laughing. Usually in the rain.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Desperately Seeking Susan
I have a new project. All in the name of supporting local education (Hekia Parata sure ain't, so someone has to), I'm off to an 80s night next weekend. I wasn't so sure on reliving memories I had of dropwaist dresses and cerise and jade tube skirts. But tonight inspiration hit. It's 1985. I'm 13. Madonna has a hotter body than me, a theme which will never change. She is the perfect teen pinup, with her crucifixes, lace hair ties and beads, fairly accessible garb for a cash-strapped young girl. I never dared wear my rosary out though. God may not have smote me down, but my mother would have.
I've just ordered some lace gloves. I'm about to have a rifle through my drawers, wardrobe and sewing box to see what lace concoctions and other accesories I have. And find my rosary. Even now, don't tell Mum.