Feathered Hair and Rainbows
Dynomite! is an ongoing segment where I publish submitted photos from the ’70s, ’80s or ’90s of readers demonstrating their fashion A-game. All accepted entries published on my blog will later compete in a Dynomite! All Stars competition like this one here.
I faced a teeny-tiny bit of a philosophical dilemma while sorting through the submitted photos from our newest Dynomite! contender.
Why, why must they send me so many delectable creampuffs and then make me choose just one? It’s gut-wrenching. It’s like King Solomon decision-making. It’s like choosing which half of your baby’s torso you’d prefer. It’s like when someone asks if you prefer puppies over kittens.
Today’s Dynomite! contestant is Jules from GoGuiltyPleasures! (you’ll want to go here, you’ll want to live here) who sent me this:
Holy Homespun Halloween. It’s amazing. It’s perfect. It’s like a dream come true if I were to fall asleep and then wake from inside of a toothpaste tube.
My dilemma is this — does this photo really conform to the very elite, very rigid, very arbitrary standards that I have laid out for Dynomite! contenders? Outside of Halloween parties, dentist ribbon-cutting ceremonies and Let’s Make a Deal tapings, did people of the ’70s, ’80s or ’90s typically breakdance and walk around in toothpaste tubes?
True, 1982 saw parachutes made into pants. And I suspect Country Crock margarine tubs formed the basis of Crocs footwear.
But it just wouldn’t be fair to the other contenders. If I allowed theme costumes into the Dynomite! competition, next I’d inevitably be choosing between a Daisy Duke drag queen and a Caucasian Mr. T in a yarnhawk, and then I’d be back doing the gut-wrenching Sophie’s Choice thing again.
So instead I have for you another worthy submission from Jules.
So instead I give you puff-sleeved rainbow-striped girl with the greatest unintentionally feathered hair I’ve seen this side of 1987.
And I think you’re going to understand why this photo is still quite a worthy Dynomite! contender once I share with you this tidbit. When Jules sent this photo to me, she included some background information:
Me at age 8, showing off a haircut that I actually asked for. When I was told by a salon that I was too young for a perm, I shouted, “FINE! Cut the whole damn thing off, you stupid dumbass!”*
Cheers and chipmunks choosing to stand their ground,
*Editor’s Note: “damn” and “dumbass” added to obtain PG rating*
And that, my friends, is what I like to call “bratass”. Bratass as in attitude, the ultimate fashion accessory. Bratass as in the highest level of style sophistication any brat could ever hope to achieve. Bratass as in 1981-Angie might not have looked chic in that terry cloth romper but her sneer made her the classiest kid on the tornado slide.
And if you want to see even more pictures of Jules looking bratass, check it out here.
Now this is the part in the segment where I stop yapping and let the Band Uniform Rule speak for itself: