meLOVE: the social retard in its natural habitat...

I was 13, and had just gotten a new bag of hand-me-downs from the uber-cool rockstar I babysat for. (Anyone who had enough of a social life to warrant a babysitter was a rockstar, in my mind.) Anyways. It included a strapless sundress. Teal, with mullet construction - boned (business) in front, schirred (party) in the back - featuring large blooms of some undefined flower exploding like fireworks over the ill green hue in shades of peacock blue and fuschia with as much late-80s glory as you can muster. I think there was a drop-waist and some large bows involved too.

I've always been into sewing. Modifying clothes was a hobby from a very early age, so getting a bag of hand-me-downs was the equivalent of the fat kid getting a bag of Mars Bars.. (In my younger 'golden' days I always fancied myself as being billed alongside my heroes Adrienne Vitadini and Thierry Mugler...) So, picture a socially retarded teenaged girl in her room with a half-length The Brick Warehouse dresser mirror. She is PRAYING her Mom doesn't get home early and that her sister isn't interested in paying her any mind. She's outfitted with her Mom's sewing machine set up on an Ikea folding table, happily modifying the aforementioned sundress while dancing around her room to to George Michael, Depeche Mode, the Pet Shop Boys, and Vicious Pink, and being a rockstar about it, ultimately knowing she will never ever have the courage to wear her Masterpiece in public. (My husband, who was Uber Cool and a total Rock Star swears he never did this. Guess that's why they say opposites attract.)

This is a good starting point to understanding what it was to be the social retard:

Golden