Tell Your Exes Where To Go
Category: Style
We Have Lift Off
It is an uncontested fact that the men of Cobra Kai, while not victorious against Danielson, did in fact possess enough feathered hair to construct another Feather Bed for John Denver’s grandma, which we all recall was “nine feet high and six feet wide, soft as a downy chick, and made from the feathers of forty ‘leven geese…” Or in this case, three Cobra Kai.
It is also a universal truth that Farrah Fawcett wore the crown of queen bee for female feathered hair. However, I have just discovered evidence of a firm runner-up to the title.
This unnamed vixen was a member of Akers’ Angels at the University of Texas, whose job it was to show prospective Longhorn football players around campus. No, that doesn’t sound like an escort at all. She evidently took the title of Angel seriously, by copying the hairstyle of one of Charlie’s Angels. But while Farrah’s locks twirled and swirled like a spiral staircase, this lady’s feathers formed an impenetrable brick wall, eight inches high, so that neither fiery darts nor a linebacker who looks as confused as Moose in Archie Comics could get through it.
Yes, her hair is powerful. But here’s a word of advice: stay out of the humidity before it goes all Kristy McNichol on you. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
Kiss These Angels Good Morning
These gorgeous gals can hardly contain themselves, anticipating the opening number at the Charley Pride concert. They are duded up and ready to get their country music on. What is that, you say? Who is Charley Pride? I can’t hear you over the squeaking of her leather jacket as she shifts uncomfortably against the wallet in her back pocket. Charley Pride is a country music singer who had hits in the 70s and 80s, scoring his 29th No. 1 in 1983 with “Night Games.” Back then, he was a pretty big deal.
Apparently, Charley Pride has been forgotten. I did not know it until I saw this picture. I assumed he was very much remembered, since everyone and their dog wants to call Darius “Don’t Call Me Hootie” Rucker the modern-day Mr. Pride. True, they have the honor of being the only two African-American artists to have solo No. 1 hits in the Country Music genre, but Charley is a traditionalist, and Darius is a crossover artist, writing his own songs as well as scoring hits with covers like “Wagon Wheel,” originally co-written by Bob Dylan.
If you know anything about me by now (aside from the fact that I don’t get it), you know Mama likes her ties, even this silk handkerchief thingy that isn’t really a tie. A man who wears this can never truly be forgotten. Especially since he’s still alive.
Now I’ll tell you who’s really been forgotten. Eddie Rabbitt. God rest his soul, he has been forgotten. Case in point: I waltzed into the local Best Buy nigh on seven years ago, back when people still purchased CDs, looking for a “best of” collection. I grabbed one of the associates, bordering on the edge of adolescence. He had never heard of Mr. Rabbitt, but he went to his trusty keyboard at the end of the aisle, punched in the name, and came up with…nothing. What? Who erased Eddie Rabbitt from existence? Who does Worst Buy think they are? I put a hex on them that day to perish in the manner of Blockbuster Video, and mark my word, they will. As sure as Kilimanjaro rises like an empress above the Serengeti.
I said, “Boy! Go fetch me your most elder statesman, for I wish to speak with him.” Eventually, a schlubbier version of gawky teen made his way over to me, and he could not have yet been thirty. I told him I wanted to hear “I Love A Rainy Night.” This ditty he could not recall.
“What about ‘Driving My Life Away?’ You remember that one about the windshield wipers?”
“No. No, I don’t.” At that point, he sounded just like Robin Gibb on The Barry Gibb Talk Show, but I figured making reference to the Brothers Gibb would get us nowhere.
“Surely you bought the Soft Love Adult Contemporary three cassette collection from a late-night infomercial in the 80s like I did, the one that contained Rabbitt’s hit with Crystal Gayle, ‘You And I.’ “
His eyebrows raised. “The lady with the long-ass hair?”
“Yes, her!” Victory was in sight.
“I know her. But I don’t know that song.”
Exasperated, I explained, “He wrote ‘Kentucky Rain’ for Elvis. Have you heard of Elvis?”
“Elvis, yes. Kentucky, yes. Eddie Rabbitt, no.” And even though he was only saying the words, I knew that he was misspelling Rabbitt in his mind. Curse him.
Ugh. So don’t cry for Charley Pride, Argentina. Cry for Eddie Rabbitt and his smoldering bedroom eyes.
Hungry Eyes
Nobody puts Baby in a corner, unless it’s a corner drug store. After performing the iconic lift scene with Johnny, Baby took a break with a malted down at Cunningham’s Drug Store. Looks like she had the time of her life.
Free Milk; No Cow Purchase Necessary
Oh, sure, it starts out innocently enough, the rush of adrenaline as you bare your calf to fifth-grade boys. But it isn’t enough. And Liquid Paper and Sharpies haven’t been invented yet, so you can’t huff them in the calm quiet of a restroom stall. But rebellion is in your blood, and you seek the thrill.
Soon you’re smoking Pall Malls to see who can get esophageal cancer first .
By college, you’ve gone all Sister Wives.
You’ve lost your self-respect. You consider relocating to Salt Lake City. But then Dorko McGoober here kicks you out of the tribe. You’re alone. All you have are your vices. You avoid your grandmother’s phone calls. You stop taking multivitamins. You rat your hair. You accept a date from a greaser, and it all goes downhill from there.
He dumps you after three weeks. You turn to the dark world of roller derby.
But your mood swings are unmanageable. You get into fights with that hussy, Rhonda. You have to be pried apart. The manager tells you they have to let you go; you’re no good for business. You’re washed up, kid.
And then you hit rock bottom. You take a job as an “entertainer” at Jack Ruby’s Carousel Club. You tell yourself it’s just temporary.
You look in the mirror, and suddenly 50 years have passed. Where did they go? What do you do now?
Don’t give away free milk, ladies. It’s a downward spiral.
When Steve McQueen Says You’re Hot, People Listen
The 1964 yearbook staff at the University of Oklahoma had the juevos to ask Steve McQueen to participate as “Beauty Judge” for their beauty contest. He actually took the time to reply.
Ask and ye shall receive. After all, years of girl-gazing did qualify him to judge. And he chose Miss Barbie Listen. Yep, that’s her real name.
Can you blame him? Her hair is only perfect. Her dress and gloves are white as snow. And I think it was very diplomatic of him to name five girls in the tie for 4th place. Nobody wants to be the loser. But I imagine Barbie Listen comes from the school of Ricky Bobby:
Suck it, losers.
Girls Gone Mild
Ties That Bind
If these 1949 college boys could be casual and dapper sitting on a gymnasium floor, what excuse has modern man not to look dashing in a tie of his own?
These fellows may have been only nineteen years old, but they knew how to make the most of formal neckwear.
By contrast, our commander-in-chief, who you’d think would least have enough style to match wits with Michelle’s interesting sleeveless dress explosions, chose these duds:
Wow! Way to get us excited about politics! These are patriotic but BOR-ing, Barry. Even this stodgy old white guy had a superior tie collection. You probably don’t recognize him since you’ve taken down the portraits of prior presidents, but this one actually ended WWII.
Here’s some detail on Harry S. (You Dropped A Bomb On Them) Truman’s tie:
Whatever your political affiliation, you can recognize that we are most certainly NOT in the heyday of neckties. However, bow ties are enjoying a trendy little trip up the popularity scale…
I know they’re not mandatory at work or church anymore, and I realize ties may be constricting. But guess what? So are stilettos and thongs. So is this bra I’m wearing, crushing my ribs and leaving indents in my shoulders. So are nylons with the seams, but those do something for you, don’t they, fellas?
Back in the 1940s, if ladies couldn’t afford or find nylons, they’d resort to having their legs painted. Just to aesthetically please the boys.
So tie one on, okay? You can’t lose with a nice vintage tie. Skip the wide ones of the 70s and ultraskinny ones of the 80s. The 40s offered the most color and creativity.
Even in black and white, these ties show pizzazz.
I bet choosing that lackluster tie wasn’t that drinker’s only poor choice that night. Look how drab it appears next to his buddy’s poppin’ square print.
I don’t have a clue what print that is spilling across his chest (a peacock tornado? an eyebrow?), but I know it’s pimp. And so did she.
Feast on these delights. Surely one of them reflects your personality.
http://www.bulkvintage.com/
http://www.thefedoralounge.com/
And how about these for the ethnocentric Irishman?
This set sold for less than $23 on ebay:
If Ryan Gosling can try it, shouldn’t everyone?
Canterbury Club
Red Stick Gumbo
I’m not sure “unique” is the word I would use for a university (LSU) that allows this shorts shot in its yearbook (The Gumbo) sans caption, so we have no idea if this is a shrunken hacky sack or a walnut being tossed around, but unique is what it has declared itself to be. See?
What’s weirder than a yearbook showing a student getting high? Someone still smoking pot after 1980.
Now take a journey with me if you will, back into the lives of Louisiana State University students during the 1985-1986 school year. The campus is located in Baton Rouge (aka Red Stick), Louisiana, and here’s a fun fact:
- The city got its name from the blood-drenched poles that were used to hang bear heads and fish in various rituals that were carried out by the natives. Now just add voodoo and stir!
The rules of the Jam Jam ’85 (aka Jambalaya-Jamboree) included:
- First you don your gay apparel (overalls).
- Then you kiss the crawfish.
3. Then you put a camo shirt on, grab a girl with crawfish earrings, and sing a rousing rendition of Hank Williams’ “Jambalaya.”
Altogether, that sounds quite promising. What a fun campus! No wonder Matt Damon chose LSU to pursue his bachelors of disc jockey.
But he wasn’t the only fish in that Red Stick Gumbo. The man candy was a veritable feast for the eyes.
Not your style? Well, check out United Colors of Benetton.
I’m pretty certain that’s B-List 80s actor T.K. Carter on the far right, so Matt Damon wasn’t the only Oscar-winning actor on campus. And who could blame them? LSU dorm life could not be matched. Just life Stefan says on SNL, “This place has everything.”
Big screen plasma TVs…
Okay, maybe not yet. But there were other options.
Okay, well, big screen TVs hadn’t been invented yet. But that’s not the point. The point is you could lounge indoors or outdoors.
You could eat lunch at a restaurant called The Library, if you were desperately seeking…food.
Why, you could even up and learn another language at the language lab–if you were willing to let the headphones jack up your sweet hairdon’t.
And you could wait with baited breath at this Residence Hall Workshop. I spy with my little eyes Panama Jack in the second row.
Now, listen, I won’t waste much of your time with Greek life. But it gets weird with Delta Kappa Epsilon. At first, I was like, “Is that Chef from ‘Southpark’ in the middle? Is that Boris Becker?”
Yeah, it is Boris Becker (ish), but it’s evidently Levy the Master Chef. My bad. Makes perfect sense. What the what? I know. It’s too much to process. Time for the mandatory 80s sax solo.
Party Like It’s 1985
As you prepare for tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve celebration, take cues from the simpler, less rambunctious era of the 1980s. Slow down and appreciate the moment.
Back then, people were working for the weekend. After double shifts at Orange Julius, it was time for hardcore karaoke. Don’t be afraid to shine on New Year’s Eve.
Also, don’t drink if you’re underage. You know who you are. Surely her jacket doesn’t say what I think it says.
Know when to say when. These guys stopped just shy of tipsy.
Remember: friends don’t let friends drive drunk. Especially in tight Girbaud (wait–they weren’t popular yet) jeans. Mercy, I can smell the Drakkar Noir from here…
Behold! Proof that Madonna used to be relevant!
Just don’t let things get out of hand.
And lastly: come to terms with reality. You have your owns set of gifts and strengths, your own contribution you can make to this world. But face it: you will never, ever look as cool as this guy.
Pre-Depression 1928 Alcalde
In my years of perusing old yearbook pages, I have found that the students’ portrait demeanors progress from stoic (you’ve seen Civil War era photos) to eternally wasted (beginning in the 60s and moving throughout the 80s). Humor was often saved for cartoons or jokes/limericks in the back of the book. However, the humor is usually so outdated, I can’t follow. And in some instances, just plain crazy.
I couldn’t make heads or tails of this one:
This yearbook belonged to Mabel E. Roberson from Humble, Texas, whom I imagine has since passed on, as she would be over 100 at this point.
Evidently, she did not spell “chaos” correctly, and was mocked for it, and understandably so. Chaos? Five little letters?
Her spelling may not have been up to par, but she did manage to make a “real friend.”
She also spent a happy night under the big bright moon with John C. Sutton.
She must have been too busy with John/Jack to give Kucera the time of day. He still mourned his broken heart.
Another man wanted to put her in jail with a life sentence. Egads, what sort of debt did she owe?
I combed these brittle pages and could not for the life of me find Mabel’s pic. I assume she was a little easier on the eyes than Sue Hill, big pimpin’ in her sparkly hat.
It would have been a hard time to be in college, no? This was during Prohibition. For those of you non-Americans, Prohibition was a nationwide ban on the sale, production, importation, and transportation of alcohol from 1920 to 1933. I don’t imagine Italy or France enforced such a thing. It was a time of flapper bobs, mink coats (before PETA threw red paint on fur), and apparently–Harry Potter glasses.
Dancing around the maypole gaily, who could have imagined The Great Depression was only a matter of months away?
I Don't Get It 