Nostalgic Notes: Clothes
Dictionary.com com defines nostalgic as: nostalgia,
Now, these pictures I’m about to show you are less about nostalgia and more about, sweet jesus, mom – what the hell were you thinking?!
My childhood seems to have involved an inordinate amount of plaid. And not even good plaid.
Welcome to my nightmare, dear reader.
First up, is this hideous pink and blue number.
Oh look. More plaid. And ukuleles. And possibly my cousin Howie. Clearly, I knew well enough to hide under this table while wearing this ensemble.
Not plaid, but…yeah. So this is a thing that happened. However, my Aunt Malita looks freaking fab in that Twiggy sort of way – so there’s that.
Okay, so this little hand knitted green dress isn’t terrible.
Okay, so I’m not in plaid, here. But my brother is. I can only assume my mom made some sort of plaid-related pact with a crossroads demon, and one of us had to be in plaid at all times. Also, check those orthopedic saddle shoes. Nothing says carefree summer fun like saddle shoes.
But what’s this? MORE PLAID. (I feel like my demonic expression is directly linked to the amount of questionable plaid in my life.
Plaid mini-kilt? Check.
Oversized uglyass hat? Check.
(No, really, mom. What were you people thinking?)
Looking at this picture, you might be lulled into a false sense of plaidless security, like I was.
But nope. Pink and aqua plaid pants. Who does that to a child?!
Monsters. That’s who.
Also, I think that’s my cousin’s creepyass Mrs. Beasley doll reaching for me in the lower right hand corner. I think we can all agree that this was a near miss.
No plaid here, but I think we can all agree that these horrendous gold and green floral pants are even worse.
At this point, you can’t possibly be surprised by the hideousness of these pants. And do be sure to notice my uncle’s girlfriend’s coordinating plaid maxi dress. I assume Rosie picked out her own clothes and wore that on purpose.
This tour of my fashion challenged childhood was brought to you by the letter “P” for plaid (obviously) and the number “7” for seven hideous plaids (“8” if you count Rosie’s.).