Goth Redux

Because I work from home, I don't have much opportunity to dress up. And when I do leave the house for something fancier than the post office or grocery store, I have a uniform - black top, black skirt, black tights, black boots, silver accessories, big black bag.

And all of a sudden, thanks to the Goth Revival, I am in style, even if it's by default, and even if it's because I've just been holding on to the look since the first go round, in the 1980's. And yes, I had a Bauhaus record. Hell, I had the extended dance remix of "Bela Lugosi's Dead."

So this Goth Revival lets me embrace the things I loved in the past - like these red winklepicker skull buckle boots from *capricornvintage* (Identical to those worn by the one goth girl in my big northeast university who had a name that was spelled normally and pronounced abnormally. She had a leather jacket with spikes (!) that caught on angora sweaters, and once went to a sorority rush dressed as a nun).

Click photo for link to auction.

It also makes me want to go shopping for more black things, as I always need more black clothes (click photos for link):

Moschino Black Patent Platform Mary Janes at Zappos

Flower/Skull Pendant from Vivenne Westwood

Marc Jacobs Rolling Rings Dress at Nordstrom.

80's Black Ruched Dress on eBay

Dsquared Plaid/Black Lug Soled Booties on Zappos

Nostalgia

I was a teenager/young adult during the 80's and initially had a hard time accepting that 80's clothing (and music) as "vintage."

But I see now the beauty in the adaption of New Wave and the inverted triangle silhouette. Plus, I am compensated by the opportunity to indulge in some nostalgia. Some memories, like those of my prom and craptastic prom dress, are bad. Some memories are good, like those resurrected by selling this early 1980's Grateful Dead t-shirt.



I have (or had) a shirt almost identical, purchased at a Dead show in the mid-80's.

In spring of 1984, on a whim, some friends and I decided to go see the Grateful Dead at the Cumberland County Civic Center in Portland, Maine. We knew nothing about the band - they hadn't had their big "I Will Get By" hit, and we had never heard the term "Deadhead." We just thought it would be an interesting rock show and a fun place to get stoned and meet guys. The tickets were $14.50 and we were able to buy them a few days before the show.

And so the three of us, all starters on the state championship field hockey team - the goalie, myself (a fullback) and the other fullback went to see the Dead. And us three girls, in from the boondocks of Maine, in our pegged pants and fluffy hair, were smitten. The Deadheads were in full, patchouli-reeking, shrooming force. And all that crazy dancing and hugging!

Next fall we saw them in Augusta Civic Center - an even smaller venue. This time we knew what to expect, and indulged accordingly. We met two boys we called "Chewey" (as in Chewbacca) and "Spacey" (self-explanatory) and I think there was some making out. Luckily we did not have a game the next day, as we, the last two lines of defense against goals, were feeling rather sluggish.

I went on to college and checked out Dead shows when I could, though by then they were playing stadiums and tickets were expensive and rare. The goalie dropped out of college and gave up her full field hockey scholarship to follow the band. The other fullback managed to stay in school, but was still a Deadhead.

Sadly, I think that during my punk rock days I threw away my t-shirt in a fit of Dead-hating angst. I wish I still had it!

Prom!

This weekend I watched my neighbor going to her senior prom. She wore a strapless wine satin gown with beading on the bust, and a matching shawl. It looked beautiful with her pale skin and black (dyed) hair. Her boyfriend wore a top hat and long tuxedo jacket, and he seemed pretty pimped out for a Maine prom. But...well...my prom date ended up committing some rather serious crimes, so I guess I'm not one to judge.

I envied my pretty neighbor in her classic gown. She won't be embarrassed in 20 years, like some of us. I wore a Gunne Sax. A huge puffy white Gunne Sax that looked as if it was made of toilet paper.

And yes, I have developed an appreciation for vintage Gunnes, and I love to sell them all the lovely, hip gals out there. But mine was a monstrosity. Even today it would be unhip, and not even in a good, ironic way.

Pictures exist, but I will not post them here, as this blog is more about my business than about my fashion mistakes (which would be a blog in itself).

In honor of 80's and bad prom dresses, I give you the ultimate 1980's bad prom dress. Even when I first saw this movie, and was completely under the spell of John Hughes, I thought this was an abomination. And the salt on the wound? She cut up a vintage dress to create this horror show.