I finally finished reading Girls Like Us, and I’ve got 5 stars for it. I won’t write a proper review of it right now because I’ve only just put it down about half an hour ago, but a little conversation I’ve been having on Facebook has outgrown its venue and I am moving it over here. And that conversation? The ugliness of the 70s.
This is where my Facebook conversation started: Even attractive people were not attractive in the 70s. It was impossible to be truly attractive from about 1970 through about 1986. The 70s were to American style what the ages of 12 to 16 are to most children. Awkward. Pimply. Greasy. Brace-faced. Gross.
I was born in 1970. The year of the Dog is right. Dog ugly. Everything was vinyl and polyester. The most fashionable colors were avocado, harvest gold, apricot, and brown–even in summertime! People wore bell bottoms, leisure suits, terry cloth, and collars so long and pointed they could touch the edges of their shoulders. Carpets and hair had the same shag styling. Miss America looked like this and Elvis was fat.
The 70s was a sweaty decade. Everyone always looked slightly overheated. In part, due to the grotesquely shimmery makeup that was popular, and in part due to the fact that the most popular fabric was a non-breathing synthetic. You couldn’t help but sweat. You couldn’t help but look like you needed a shower. And the hair…oh, the hair.
70s hair is infinitely worse than 80s hair. Yes, 80s hair is large and overprocessed, but 80s hair is also largely clean–or, at least it is easier to hide a greasy scalp behind 3 inches of teased bangs. In the 70s, with everything parted down the middle, you could just–yuck. Okay?
And on television? Was there an attractive man on television? I know there were attractive women because I watched Charlie’s Angels and Wonder Woman with a religious fervor, but think how much better looking those shows would have been, had they been initially produced today! I mean, Farrah? Farrah in her prime taken outside the 70s? She would have been too much for television. In a way, I suppose we were fortunate that the burgundy blush, and frosted eyeshadows toned down her hotness. We’d have been all sweaty for a different reason.
I did have crushes on David and Shawn Cassidy, Andy and Barry Gibb, and Dirk Benedict (as Starbuck–the only Starbuck, thank you.) But even as a child I understood that their pants were freakishly tight, their hair unflattering, and their satin Members Only jackets gauche. You worked with what you had in the 70s, and what I had was poofy-headed, tight, sateen pant wearing, hairy-chested pretty boys.
This post… I started this post 3 hours ago, then went searching for a picture from a yearbook. I got sucked into classmates.com, where there are yearbooks online, then ancestry.com, which is like crack cocaine to me. I couldn’t find my Kindergarten yearbook picture, then I remembered that my picture was so bad, it was not included in the Kindergarten section of the book. I had a massive cold sore that ran from inside my lower lip, halfway down my chin, covering the entire lower left side of my mouth. They took my picture in profile and it was still visible. I sport a lovely scar which is nicely apparent when I get overheated. I guess the school didn’t want people to think they let lepers go to class.
My first grade yearbook isn’t online. Thus and so, I give you my second grade picture, taken in 1978. I look really happy to be there, don’t I? Oh, there’s a story behind that one. But not for tonight. I need to get off this computer before I turn into one!