What a blessing has Johann Inauen, and I don’t mean his pipe. Son Reto could not be more smitten with papa, enjoying a childhood on a small Appenzell dairy farm in Switzerland. Idyllic indeed.
“Children Are A Poor Man’s Riches” – English Proverb
Category: 1980s
When Your Sleep Number Is Bananas
Rare Pic Of Young Santa Reveals True Rizzle For The Sizzle
Vanna’s Younger Sister Hawks Sponge
There’s Valerie White, holding it up for all the free world to see.
And Vanna looks HORRified.
Can you blame her? Sponges are nasty, no matter what kind.
A scrub brush with fibers works fine.
Or this.
Supermodel Cyclops
Back in 1987, Cindy Crawford may have been bronzed (and possibly narcoleptic), but she lacked the use her right eye.
Once her tan had faded, only her left eye was functional, and seems to have contracted a nasty case of pink eye, to boot.
Linda was the next victim of vision impairment, which may explain her shoddy yellow eye shadow application.
Christie’s left eye is hidden beneath this fetching safety pin hat. It might prove helpful if she needs emergency hemming.
Iman was only partially impaired by her curly strands. However, her poor lobes were taxed with cutlery. Nothing like the feel of prongs scraping against your collarbone to remind you that forks are the enemy of supermodels.
Nowadays, it’s important to have both eyes free of impediments so that you can properly text while driving. Eyes work better in tandem. Just ask this guy!
I Am A Winter, And My Glasses Are Hidd-Yuss
Actually, these owlish, oversized specs aren’t as hidd-yuss as most of the following glasses from 1985. But these Ted Lapidus ones certainly qualify.
She seems to be gritting her teeth to prevent from cursing their bulky black bamboo frame, perfect for eating kung pao shrimp.
The next model seems to have moved on to dessert.
I guess boys DO make passes at girls who wear glasses–especially if it’s Sophia Loren. She must have loved her some curlicues. And pearls. And lace.
How about supermodel Paulina, sporting patriotic fingernails?
Sorry, but those hoopy metal sunglasses are awful. Just awful. Even on Paulina.
And who among you wants their frames to be at nostril level? Not I.
These white ones might have appealed to me as a teen, but what they delivered in style, they lacked in peripheral vision. Thus the pout.
And what about these? They remind me of spreading butterfly wings. Is she in an indoor wind storm?
Well, I hope you enjoyed this trip down memory lane (and I hope you’re wearing your glasses). After all, it’s the best way to enjoy the interwebs.
Why We Didn’t Keep Our Old PC’s
This picture says it all. Get a load of this atrocity. Look at the angles, the depth of product, requiring a solid foot from teensy screen to drywall. Who would bother to keep this dinosaur when new technology arrived? Not me.
Some people still have their old phones (a Nokia that fits in your palm) or their old cameras (I still have my old Nikon) or maybe their old camcorders from the pre-digital world. But I don’t know anyone who kept their personal computer relics from the 80s, 90s, or even the Oughties. Now, I am certain there are plenty of computer peeps who hold on to them (and hoarders who just. can’t. let. go.), but again, I don’t know them. Beige paint on the walls isn’t even acceptable anymore; how could one stare at a beige computer?
In the same 1987 Cactus yearbook, you can see this student studying at what looks to be a computer terminal. You can bet your bippy this was beige as well. No Windows. Was there a prompt screen?
The RTF (radio/tv/film) dept was cutting edge. Back then, it didn’t stand for Residential Treatment Facility. But surely some of the RTF majors I knew are now in one.
You can see how it was a precursor to today’s Communication Dept at the University of New Haven. Much snazzy, as Engrish would say.
Still, at the time, all personal computers seemed pretty rad.
With a little coaching from the Big Boss, even girls could do it.
Speaking of girls, a contestant on Ellen’s show yesterday didn’t know how to identify what she was handed in the game of Millennials vs Boomers. It was a floppy disk. Even once identified, she didn’t believe Ellen. I guess Millennials don’t know a floppy from a hard. Remember the write protection notch?
Let’s all be glad for the death of the beige and the modern ease of use for a world that demands personal computer use daily (even if it’s inside your phone). Cheers to that!
Jill In ’87
By the fall of 1987, I was well-acquainted with the new supermodel faces across my fashion magazines: Cindy, Linda, Naomi, etc. As I had curly hair at the time, I could relate to Jill Goodacre, whose mane poured down her neck with all of the high-volume tousles that a headbanging 1987 demanded. I think you will understand why Harry Connick Jr married her.
And this next one, well … I can’t even explain it. And that’s why this blog is called “I Don’t Get It.”
Nowadays, the 55-year-old has her straightened (as most of us do) for a more polished, less unruly look. She and Harry have been married for 25 years.
How To Keep Phlebotomists And Blood Pressure Cuffs At Bay
Ugly Perms Of ’84
That’s how I feel about perms, too, Andie. Like Andie McDowell, I had curly hair in the 80s, so no perm was warranted. Frizz was in, and sleek was out. Even Paulina experimented with the volume of the perm. Clearly, she still felt sexy in her side-eye specs.
Perms were liberating, devil may care, and wild.
When mousse came on the scene, permed styles became wetter, evoking poolside images of Christie Brinkley in “Vacation” or Phoebe Cates in “Fast Times at Ridgemont High.”
But some perms still looked touchably soft. Why bother with earrings at this point?
And let’s not forget moisturizing curls to keep them plump and full–and “sof” and free. Even the “t” in soft was too hard for these curls.
That arched eyebrow means she ain’t playing.
Some Vogue ads showed before and afters, pre- and post-perm.
It looks like they were going for a combination of Jennifer Beals “Flashdance” hair and Ola Ray from the “Thriller” video. What do you think? Is that smile cringey?
And God forbid you get a bad perm. You could never show your face in public. The solution to a damaging perm? Twigs and branches.
Hair Of Early ’86
Take a look around. People’s hair seems pretty tame these days. Yes, women from 12 to 55 are adding purple tint. That’s a bit odd. But basically, nothing in these 20-teens has anything on the 80s. Not the Oughties or the 90s.
Today we take a look at a tiny sliver of the 80s, January through April of 1986. All images are from Vogue.
Let’s start with this hair-raising vertical, erect pony. It certainly wouldn’t work for driving any form of car or truck. Perhaps she only traveled in the way way back of station wagons, prostrate. She seems the sort, no?
Gravity-defying was in, with temples swept up and away. With heavy earrings and fringe hanging down, hair needed to fly up, the opposite of the middle-parted hippie Cher hair from the decade prior.
Even the model in the fatty plus-sized section of the mag had her hair sprayed up to the heavens to make sure it never fell into her face. 
This six-year-old in a jubilant Esprit ad also had hair spiked and sprayed to the sky, accented with a bandana, a la Olivia Newton-John’s “Physical” days.
When inevitably the hair collapsed, one wound up with a Shaggy Dog look. If only she could see her own appearance, she would have jetted to the Supercuts for a trim.
These bangs win the award for thickest bangs ever. I bet you could hide a shiv in there.
And for the free and easy, peace-loving, inclusive Benetton ads, hair was free form as well. All the way down to those split ends. Peace out.
The Braless Eighties
Bra-burning began 50 years ago among protesters of the Miss America pageant, an emblem of radical feminism. Having not been alive 50 years ago, I cannot fully comprehend their behavior. I imagine most of these women would have been svelte, small-bosomed ladies like my mom and most of my friend’s mommies. Today, however, those who are fuller figured and into the C and D cups, who spend over $50 per bra, wouldn’t dare burn them. Not even for political gain.
Of my generation, I never knew anyone to go braless, though we did see Baby Boomer women who did, and we did witness the jiggly antics of Chrissy Snow on “Three’s Company.” This was not something we wanted to emulate. So when I see braless pics in the pages of my new (but old) 80’s Vogues, I assume it was purely for fashion reasons.
It started out subtle.
In the most androgynous of ways.
It presented a united front.
Then it got scary.
And then it took a turn into the new career woman’s ensembles. What working woman would be caught dead sans camisole, with a V nearly to her naval? And what’s with that belt? High fashion indeed.
It would have been impossible to saunter into an office and ask folks not to stare. It’s like J. Lo in her green dress. Too much liberation, with risk of escape!
One thing I do know for sure is that they sold bras in the 80s. The problem was, save for Jane Russell’s Cross Your Heart Playtex bra, they nearly all look like training bras for middle schoolers. No underwire, no support. And little cooing doves on the cups made them posilutely silly.
I can’t imagine a grown woman wearing this. I can’t imagine a bra that you could crumple up into your hand. Many of today’s top-selling bras are minimizing, taking you one cup down, having wide straps that don’t leave indentions in your shoulders, and they’d never fit in one hand. Then again, we are in an obesity epidemic. If you’re lucky enough to be able to find function in that duet brassiere, thank your lucky stars. Your back thanks you as well. You are spared the burden.
So, ladies, whether your bosom is a Dolly Parton or a Kelly Ripa, one thing is for sure: our country sure has a love/hate relationship with them.
I Don't Get It 