I almost forgot about WWW. Because I kind of forgot it was Wednesday. Yesterday felt like two days and I just decided it must be Thursday, one day closer to Friday. Please.

It’s Wednesday, though, so let’s play!

I cleaned out closets over the weekend and immediately started shopping for new clothes (on line, of course, because taking small children clothes shopping is low – so low – on my list of fun activities). God forbid I have empty space in that closet of mine.

As I surfed, I noticed the 80’s influence in a lot of clothes right now – ruffles, bright colors, plaids. Frankly, I kind of like it. When I was young and a trend would come back around, my mom would say, “Lord, I lived through that once, I don’t want to wear it again.” I do get that, but for some reason I’m very happy with the 80s resurgence. That was a good decade for me. Over those 10 years I had some fun: Roller skating. Slumber parties. My learner’s permit. My first boyfriend.

I was reminded, though, of my greatest fashion disappointment of the 1980’s. I’ll call it The Great Parachute Pant Disappointment. I wanted them. Mom would not let me have them. She told me that she was pretty sure I would live through the disappointment, but I could feel free to lie on the psychiatrist’s couch in 20 years and point to this incident as the beginning of the end.

I don’t think I’m over it. I was the only kid in the fifth grade who didn’t have a pair. I couldn’t tie a bandanna around my thigh, over my parachute pants, and look insanely hip and cool. I mean, plastic pants! Who wouldn’t want a pair?

My question today: I wonder why my mom felt the need to stifle my style? (Or, since nobody but my mother can answer that question, you could just tell me about a fashion memory from the 80s and why it matters to you.)

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