Frankie Says Relapse

Back in the mid-nineties, I was standing around a keg of beer at the school library discussing the new 70s fashion craze at the time. We mused over how unlikely it was that something like that could happen since the 70s were so... distinct. Someone said, "Wait until the 80s come back!" and we all laughed. Then small voice behind us said, "You know, it's going to happen.". We spun to face a girl on the couch listening to us. Well, we were likely yelling , but she was paying attention nonetheless. We all took a beat and simultaneously began our compelling "Pssshhhhh ohmygod noooo NEVER happen!!" argument. She held her ground. "It will happen. You wait.". After about an hour of similar debate, we dismissed her as being drunk, argumentative or both.

Our platform explained that the 70s craze was a fluke. Yes, the styles were weird, but aside from the disco crap, some of it was a little cool. Jim Morrison was cool, right? But the EIGHTIES?? Flock of Seagulls hair and leopard-print Zubaz?? No way. The 80s were fashion's trip to Vegas. I think everyone knows what happened and we all agreed to delete the pics.

Well dip me in sh!t, slap my ass and call me Big Poppa if that drunk chick wasn't right. They're back. It's like seeing the wildly embarrassing hook-up from last month at a party, and she's hanging all over some other poor, unknowing chump. You want to warn him, but hey, you have to live with the shame. Why shouldn't he? Misery loves company.

Now I gotta find that girl from the couch. I do believe I owe her a bajillion dollars.

Me not believing it could happen only 4 years ago.