Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, groups of girls would gather at one friend's house, giggling and talking. They were getting ready for the social event of the week. They tried on each other's clothes, makeup, did their hair, sprayed it, brushed it, sprayed it some more and laughed some more. They wondered who else would be there, what would happen and would the latest crush show up.
All of this primping and preparing was done in the glaring light of day. Literally, hours were spent on this activity. Finally, it was time to go and in the most impractical, illogical time of our lives, we would wear heels in the dark to walk down the street to a party in a field. Yes. More than once. No one could see the makeup we took such time and care to apply. No one could really tell if our hair was perfectly feathered, full or fluffed. No one really cared. The boys were far smarter, dressed in jeans with concert shirts covered with flannels or sweatshirts. So practical.
And so we listened to Def Leppard and Ozzy (in fact, he was our host though his real name was Eric) and those that were there can fill in the blanks. We thought we were surely fabulous!
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