1990s Nostalgia hits its full thrust
Jan. 12th, 2008 12:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
offbalanceAm I just getting old? Or is the world so saturated with nostalgia for the 90s that it's infected me too?
First, VH1 had the 100 greatest songs of the 90s. Which was pretty great, all told. Lots of great songs along the way. And anything that features the Yacht Rock guys is a-ok with me. Then there was a book about Sassy, which was my Bible when Jane Pratt was running the joint.
It got worse when netflix started delivering episodes of My So-Called Life. I remembered the show, or I thought I did. When I started watching again, it all came back fresh. Fresh pain, fresh mortification, fresh incomprehension at what used to be called fashion. And remembering how many clothes Angela Chase and I had in common. Oh, Lord. The skinny shirts with the long vests over them, and the burgundy crushed velvet stretch dress that I loved more than life itself. The chokers and the charm earrings. I lived for this one store called Clothestime. I think they were a national chain - anyone remember them? They didn't survive the 90s, but half my closet was from there at one point.
Right now I'm sitting here listening to Liz Phair's Exile In Guyville for the first time. I can't believe it either. It was one of those albums that Sassy used to rave and rave about, that I always meant to buy but never seemed to, that no one ever bought me for a holiday or birthday gift because of the Parental Advisory sticker. Maybe it's better, though. I'm not sure I would have gotten this album at 13 or 14. I certainly wouldn't have loved it as much as I am loving it now. I used to have this rule about needing to like three songs on a cd before I invested in it. It saved me from a lot of clunkers, but I think I should have taken a leap of blind, Sassy-fueled fate and just bought this one back in the day. It wasn't like the radio was going to play Liz Phair. If DRE/LIR ever played her, I didn't realize it at the time.
This song is New Orleans Girl's favorite. When I showed her my huge haul of cds from the library, she screamed when she saw this one. "How did you not own this cd?" she asked me. "How?!" I had no idea. But I really like what I'm hearing.
Now I want to call my mom and ask her if she knows if that green, gold, and purple woven, button-down Levi shirt is still somewhere in the house, or if it finally got given away. It's probably huge on me (in my day, girls almost always wore oversized stuff), but damn, I miss that shirt. I lived in that shirt. I wore it constantly, like Angela wore that red and blue flannel. I wore it and wore it and wore it until I couldn't look at it anymore.
Of course, there's a metric ton of things related to the 90s that I do not, and will never miss. Ugh. Is there ever. Still, I wouldn't mind being about to take who I was out for a coffee (I still drank it back then), and reassure her that yes, it does get better. The dating? Maybe not. The social aspect? Way, way better. And that internet she's starting to really love? Oh, sweetie. Just wait until about 1999 or so. That's going to go crazy. Man.
I have a feeling that when I'm done with Liz Phair I'm going to watch My So-Called Life. It's like, important, or something.
First, VH1 had the 100 greatest songs of the 90s. Which was pretty great, all told. Lots of great songs along the way. And anything that features the Yacht Rock guys is a-ok with me. Then there was a book about Sassy, which was my Bible when Jane Pratt was running the joint.
It got worse when netflix started delivering episodes of My So-Called Life. I remembered the show, or I thought I did. When I started watching again, it all came back fresh. Fresh pain, fresh mortification, fresh incomprehension at what used to be called fashion. And remembering how many clothes Angela Chase and I had in common. Oh, Lord. The skinny shirts with the long vests over them, and the burgundy crushed velvet stretch dress that I loved more than life itself. The chokers and the charm earrings. I lived for this one store called Clothestime. I think they were a national chain - anyone remember them? They didn't survive the 90s, but half my closet was from there at one point.
Right now I'm sitting here listening to Liz Phair's Exile In Guyville for the first time. I can't believe it either. It was one of those albums that Sassy used to rave and rave about, that I always meant to buy but never seemed to, that no one ever bought me for a holiday or birthday gift because of the Parental Advisory sticker. Maybe it's better, though. I'm not sure I would have gotten this album at 13 or 14. I certainly wouldn't have loved it as much as I am loving it now. I used to have this rule about needing to like three songs on a cd before I invested in it. It saved me from a lot of clunkers, but I think I should have taken a leap of blind, Sassy-fueled fate and just bought this one back in the day. It wasn't like the radio was going to play Liz Phair. If DRE/LIR ever played her, I didn't realize it at the time.
This song is New Orleans Girl's favorite. When I showed her my huge haul of cds from the library, she screamed when she saw this one. "How did you not own this cd?" she asked me. "How?!" I had no idea. But I really like what I'm hearing.
Now I want to call my mom and ask her if she knows if that green, gold, and purple woven, button-down Levi shirt is still somewhere in the house, or if it finally got given away. It's probably huge on me (in my day, girls almost always wore oversized stuff), but damn, I miss that shirt. I lived in that shirt. I wore it constantly, like Angela wore that red and blue flannel. I wore it and wore it and wore it until I couldn't look at it anymore.
Of course, there's a metric ton of things related to the 90s that I do not, and will never miss. Ugh. Is there ever. Still, I wouldn't mind being about to take who I was out for a coffee (I still drank it back then), and reassure her that yes, it does get better. The dating? Maybe not. The social aspect? Way, way better. And that internet she's starting to really love? Oh, sweetie. Just wait until about 1999 or so. That's going to go crazy. Man.
I have a feeling that when I'm done with Liz Phair I'm going to watch My So-Called Life. It's like, important, or something.
