Nostalgia

A couple of weeks ago I was going through some huge bags of clothes that had collected dust up in our garage. I was sorting them into two piles- one pile to donate to the Salvation Army, and one pile to burn because not even homeless people would want thrice handed down maternity clothing.

Is thrice even a real word?

Anyway, I came upon this that you see in the picture up above there.

It was my old flannel left over from the grunge era- circa 1993/4/and 5. Remember when Kurt Cobain inadvertently started a fashion revolution that was almost as big as his music? I jumped on that bandwagon faster than you could say "mosh pit." Being that I hadn't worn it in at least 15 years, I threw it in the Salvation Army pile. But then I started thinking.......

That flannel was so good to me. I wore it all the time with my Doc Martins and jeans. (I think I also may have worn it a few times over overalls and an occasional body suit, but we won't talk about that here. Or anywhere.)

Anyway, seeing that old flannel got me all nostalgic. That whole time era was really the best time of my life, not just because of the music or because I was still young and skinny. (bah- I know I'm fooling no one here- of course it was partly because I was young and skinny.) But it was also because I was so..... free.

I lived at home. I waitressed at a coffee shop in Palm Springs and pocketed hundreds of dollars in tips every week during the tourist season. I had my little red Mazda Mx3 hatchback to take me to work and school- and those two places were really where my responsibilities ended.

If my friends and I finished our shifts at the coffee shop at 10 p.m. and decided that the senior citizens had sucked the life force out of us (which they often did), we'd take off and drive 2 hours to Huntington Beach, where we'd walk around and soak up young people energy for a while. Then we'd drive home and maybe do it all over again the next night.

Or, sometimes we'd just finish our shifts and go down the street to the 24 hour coffee shop and smoke cigarettes and drink coffee, cuz we thought we were cool like that.

The soundtrack to Reality Bites was in my tape deck almost always. I was one of those dorks that liked to sing along to "My Sharona". If it helps to redeem myself in your eyes, you should know that I also liked Stone Temple Pilots, Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam, and Soundgarden.

Don't forgive me yet, cuz I also have to confess that "Now That's What I Call Music! Vol.3", also got equal playtime. This was mostly because I needed to have Sir Mix a Lot and KC & JoJo on hand for road trip sing a longs.

I am a very complicated girl, musically speaking.

Zima's, wine coolers, and Boone's Hill were what Chardonnay, Merlot, and Patron are to me now.

I was in love for the first time, and my then-boyfriend and I used to go to car shows and street races. He taught me the difference between a big block and small block engine, and while this information has never proven useful to me, I still can recognize the difference.

My L.A. friends would tape record "Love Line w/Dr. Drew and Adam Corrolla" and send it to me so that my deprived ears could listen to it way out in the desert.

My flannel was there for all of it.

Being that I hadn't worn it in at least 15 years, I ended up throwing it into the Salvation Army pile. But then I started thinking.......and as I looked down at it, sitting all sad and dusty on top of the give-away pile, a couple of chorus' of Puff the Magic Dragon started playing in my head. (If you know me well, you'd know that that song always turns me into a sentimental sappy pile of mush. I can't handle the verse where Little Jackie Paper stops coming around and Puff ceases to roar his mighty roar. Seriously. As I type this, I'm choking back tears.) I realized that that soft and fuzzy little piece of clothing symbolizes a time in my life when I pretty much didn't have a clue what I was doing. I was basically wandering around with a fuzzy idea of what my goals in life were, knowing that I would get there, but not too concerned with getting it done anytime soon. I love that I had that time. I want my own kids to have that time.

So, I'm sure you all can guess what I did. I reached down, snatched the flannel up, hugged it to me for a moment, and gently carried it to my closet where it will sit on a shelf for the next 15 years.

And then I went to look in the mirror and cry at all the wrinkles that are wrecking havoc upon my face.

You all have a good night!