Ah, the Eighties. If only cameras hadn't been invented then. Somewhere lurking in the dusty piles of "why-are-you-throwing-this-away?-So-wasteful,-still-can-use-wan" in your parents' house lie evidence of past fashion disasters and hideous hair.
For those of us born in the 70s, cringe not. Even sex gods and goddesses weren't spared.
George Michael discovers that Colonel Sanders pulls only the feathered variety of chicks. Not that it mattered, as it turns out.
Chicks are so gonna dig my George Michael hair...
Darn braces...they make my lips all puffy and ugly. Who'll love me like this?
When I grow up I wanna be a Better Man...with hunky chest hair.
Feel better about yourself now? Well, how's this for a thought. They've since become sex gods and goddesses. And they're about the same age as us.
Bitchy Bessie, chewing out. Toodles!
2 comments:
Oh I TOTALLY know what you're talking about. Like them, I too was a late bloomer.
I'm just happy I was a clueless toddler for much of the eighties. Any fashion disasters I may have suffered were not a result of my choices!
I hope people the next decade won't view the nineties in the same way!!
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