Being beautiful in 1942 had more to do with how daintily you held your fingers to your chin than with the symmetry of your features. If, by chance, you had man hands, you could look off to the side wistfully. But it wasn’t nearly as effective.
Welcome to Vogue Sep 2013, 902 pages of over-the-top, aesthetically displeasing ads that I DO NOT GET. I still regret paying $1 for it. All I wanted was some perfume samples.
Look, I liked Vogue as a youth. I enjoyed models and high fashion and keeping up with the trends, perusing through the modern and artsy pages. Perhaps they were even inspiring at one point. But now? Now I cannot get past these ads. Vile.
Spare me any comments about how high-concept or fashion-forward Vogue is; you’ll only sound pretentious or as tired as Madonna’s antiquated song. Ads don’t happen by accident; I’m 100% certain this contrived androgynous look was exactly what they were going for.
All I know is, somebody, please FEED HER. (Not Jennifer Lawrence, but the topless one). And make sure she keeps it down, if you know what I mean. And while you’re at it, throw a shirt on her and trot her to the closest neurologist to see if those dopamine receptors are down, because this one’s smile is broken.
Ralph Rucci, this makes me feel uncomfortable, and discomfort does not buy your product. In fact, it makes me want to ralph into a toilet bowl (where you should put your flowy too-long skirt, fur muff, belt, gloves and bad eye shadow). And take that hairdon’t back to Moe from the Three Stooges. But props to you for getting celebs to buy your clothes! Rich folk love them some runways. Cha-ching!
And I apologize to Crispin Glover, who is actually much easier on the eyes (yet arguably as eccentric) than the aforementioned shemale.
In case you didn’t know, the Denton High School marching band is awesome. Their jersey shirts tell you so.
Hard work, perseverance, and dedication will take this band all the way to state. It doesn’t hurt that Alan can really blow. 
Jill and Dana are just happy to have an excuse to skip family Uno night each Friday. Jill gets her rebellion on by donning the purple eye shadow that Mom says makes her look like a Runaround Sue, and Dana has splashed her entire being with Jean Nate in an effort to entice Alan. And after the game, it’s endless Capri Suns and Fritos with bean dip!
If Alan is oblivious as usual, maybe she can spark some interest from Josh. Who wouldn’t want to be around Josh, when his enthusiasm is so palpable?
Who could it be now? Ted, Shawn, or Michael?
It’s a tough call, but my money’s on Shawn. I can see the rumpled Code Bleu jacket in the back seat, next to a can of New Coke, a ticket stub for Rambo: First Blood II, and an empty Dokken cassette case. You rock so hard, Shawn.
While we’re at it, who’s the proud owner of that black Trans-Am that always screeches into the roller rink near closing time, scouting pubescent girls in banana clips and Esprit blouses?
Is it Ben, Larry, or Franswya? Ben is bringing the preppy Blaine vibe, but I heard he drives a totally rad Ford Bronco. Larry is not allowed to operate heavy machinery until he’s done participating in the clinical trial, so it must be Fran, giddy as heck.
I do hope that Franswya is not an alternate way of spelling François, but either way, he’s in his 40s now, so he’s at peace with the name. It’s not quite as unsettling to me as boys named Kameron, but like the overrated movie Frozen (really, what was the BIG deal?), I’ll let it go. Let’s focus instead on Bob.
What about Bob? I don’t care if those keys are to his Porsche 944, I’m not going. I’m taking the school bus home today.
Fun fact of the day: Jheri curl creator Jheri Redding (born Robert William Redding) was an American hairdresser, chemist, haircare products entrepreneur, and a businessman. And an old white guy. But that didn’t stop folks from sporting the glossy, loosened curls.
If you have never watched Coming To America, do yourself a favor and enjoy Eddie Murphy and Arsenio Hall as the Hope & Crosby pairing for the 1980s. The movie parodied overuse of Jheri Curl in an advertisement for Soul Glo. My eardrums are still pierced from the shrill jingle (Prince meets Minnie Riperton). You remember Eriq La Salle rocking a Jheri? 
But the woman’s hairdo reminds me of Ola Ray, the luck, luckiest girl in the whole U.S.A. The girl from the Thriller video! The one we all wanted to be–with Michael’s arm around her! Is that blue leopard denim?
And while every senior in this 1985 yearbook wore the same striped tie or strapless gown, not all of them sported Jheri curl. This lady went for volume instead. 
The gentleman has a curious case of Kenan Thompson eyebrows. See for yourself.
Nobody told Victor he couldn’t wear Stevie Wonder glasses for class portraits. 
Still, his enormous shades were probably better choices than these three specs:
If you still need your Soul Glo fix, here ’tis:
I don’t need to tell you from which decade this new yearbook hails, do I, peeps? Kiss could shout it, shout it out loud. Oh, how this new yearbook score is laden with delicious 80s-ness! No wiggin’ out over wars to protest or lame women’s rights. Just the sweet self-indulgence of excess. I truly hope that these two hotties (Joel and Tim) are alive and have access to WordPress, because who would not want to revisit his starry-eyed Captain-sans-Tenille, Magnum P.I.-Hawaiian-shirt look? Not I.
I Don't Get It 