Megan McCafferty

(retro)photo Friday #3: Pink foam rollers

Friday, January 22nd, 2010

This is my third grade class photo. The blouse was silk, the vest was velvet, and though you obviously can’t see them in this photo, the culottes were tweed and brown.

That’s right. Culottes. 1880s newspaper delivery boy knickers updated for the 1980s. Modern pantaloons.

The three elements of this outfit–blouse-vest-culottes–were never separated from one another. Never did I wear the blouse sans vest under my baby blue monogrammed sweater*. Never did I wear the vest over my Cheryl Tiegs brand plaid blouse with ruffles down the front*. Never did I wear the brown tweed culottes with my purple, teal and magenta batwing velour sweater*. BLOUSE-VEST-CULOTTES. It’s as if the whole outfit would self-destruct in a conflagration of bad fashion if one element was removed from the ensemble as a whole.

*Not hypothetical. These are actual descriptions of clothing I once owned and wore and will perhaps post on this blog in the future.

This was my “special occasion” hair. On any ordinary day, my hair was less…flouffy. I can’t even begin to explain what’s happening with the triangular swoop of bang across my forehead. I only know that such special occasion hair could only be made possible through the use of….

Pink.

Foam.

Rollers.

My mother was a big believer in the pink foam rollers. (Rollers, Maybelline mascara and Oil of Olay night cream. That’s the extent of beauty knowledge passed down from mother to daughter. My mother is a natural babe so that minimal routine served her well. It’s all she needed. Not to be too unkind to my younger self, but suffice it to say that I required a bit more assistance than that.) Long ago my mom upgraded to hot rollers. The problem with rollers of any kind is that I never learned how to roll my own, so to speak. My mom always rolled for me which she gladly did for just about every special occasion from this third grade class photo up to my senior prom and even some very recent book signings when I didn’t want to shell out for a blowout. The downside to putting mom in charge of all my good hair days is that I’m 36 years old and DON’T KNOW HOW TO STYLE MY OWN HAIR. If you ever see me and my hair is styled in any way but a ponytail or a sloppy bun I DIDN’T DO IT. I’m a capable person in many ways but styling my own hair isn’t one of them.

Tags: (retro)photo Friday, 1982