Happy Thursday! Let’s do this!
I don’t remember the exact age cut off for this particular nightmare, but I am assuming that if you are under twenty years old, you will have no recollection of this. Which is a blessing.
For the rest of it, it is my pleasure (as it is every Thursday) to drag you through the horrifying graveyard of your childhood decisions.
Today, we are not focusing on a tragic piece of clothing as is our normal Thursday Throwback style.
Last night as I was drifting off to sleep, I began to brainstorm what 90s fashion disaster I could verbally berate this week. I mentally raided the closet of my middle school self, throwing aside misshapen jeans and ill-fitting t-shirts with bizarre graphics. And as I scanned this room of yesteryear in my brain, my eye caught on something. Past the collection of blue, green, and purple eyeshadows (so that I could match my eyeshadow to my clothes, duh), sat furniture. Furniture I bought with my own allowance money. Furniture I was sure turned my pre-teen bedroom into a cool hangout/my own living room. Basically I imagined myself living in a tiny Soho apartment as an independent woman.
Let me clarify why I find it reasonable to rant on furniture rather than the style of the 90s.
Nothing so clearly defines where our heads were at. Maybe if we can understand why we thought this was okay, we can understand why we tried to make our heads look like some sort of hair collage and got so much amusement out of an amazing stretchy shirt.
This was a thing. More importantly, it was a thing that people bought. With their money. That could literally be used for anything else.
What was wrong with it?
If it can be used by a lifeguard, it may not be appropriate room décor. Just like we are not using pool whistles as doorbells, we shouldn’t be using some version of a life preserver raft to rest in.
Sitting down in this thing was a delicate balance of trying not to make any awkward noises and looking like you are way more comfortable than you actually were.
If an enemy can walk by you with a sharp stick, poke the thing you are sitting in, and propel you onto the floor, we don’t want it.
Why did we love it?
It was so fun! And cheap!
All you had to do was expel more air than is healthy into a misshapen pool floaty and BAM! Seven hours later of intense concentration, your face smeared with spit and your face a horrible shade of dull red, you have yourself a chair!
How easy! How fun! So many places for our friends from math class to sit!
How can we ensure that history doesn’t repeat itself?
I am not worried about this making a comeback. Unless the comeback is ironic. I can totally see that.
Join us next week of tbt here at 810 Showroom! Hang in there — it’s almost Friday, kids.