It could be rickrack. It might be dotted swiss, ruffles or just the general Gunny Sax look. It comes back to haunt us. Beware friends of mine!! I have lots of photos. Here are just a few.
The Belle loved to buy dresses for me. I was in my 40s while they lived with us, yet she would primp and fuss over me like I was going to a prom.
I was looking for a particular photo and stumbled across every bad dress I wore to a dance or prom. My dates' attires were even worse: baby blue tux, etc. One date brought a top hat and a cane. We didn't date long.
There are no photos of me with a bad perm. The good news is that I never needed one. The bad news is my hair looked weird enough on its own.
Isn't it funny how a photo (or a song) can transport you in time? I like to look at them and ask, "What was I thinking?" I do remember. Mostly I wonder what my parents were thinking.
I wonder if the grown daughter feels that way about her Madonna stage. I wonder if the baby will regret dressing like the boyz in the hood. Or will they embrace it as just a stage?