I won't say that I was prescient or ahead-of-my-time, but I'm convinced I always knew there was something fundamentally wrong with the fashion and hairstyles of the decade. Even when I was in my parachute pants and white leather Puma high-tops, there was a nagging sense of my own absurdity. Did I really just pay money for a little yellow rubbery band I could place over the face of my Swatch, ostensible to 'guard' it? Was I seriously concerned about having the tightest peg-roll on my Jordache jeans? And did I actually wear a fire-engine red Izod with a popped collar under a gray zippered vest to the Daughters of the American Revolution awards dinner? (Oh, the humanity...)
A Flock of Seagulls lead singer.
Pepa, Salt, and Spinderella.