In 1985, I was twelve. I had short feathered hair, wore my jeans rolled and wore flourescent jelly bracelets like it was my job. That year I wore teddy bear sweatshirts, pined for Guess! jeans, and I truly believed that “Life is not a spectator sport” (thanks, Reebok).
1985 had a lot of truly awful and cheesy pop songs, friends, but never fear – we still have ten excellent songs to celebrate this week. Also, I may or may not become overly fixated on everyone’s hair.
Happy Thursday afternoon, Persephoneers! This week’s Classic Woman-Centric Movie Review has been moved up to allow for a very special Linotte Reads Fifty Shades of Grey on Friday. Since we moved up the date for the post, I thought we would move up the decade from which I would pick this week’s movie. So this […]
This album got me to admit that, actually, I don’t hate R.E.M. This is a significant achievement.
So it’s Monday again, and it’s time to travel back in time.