I just passed in ten pages of a chapter for my writing workshop and my mind is rather deep in 1991. I was studying in London at the time and took my first trip to Poland as an adult. So I’m having a hard time switching gears back to the blogosphere. My 2012 self is talking to my 1991 self and we’re having quite the conversation. It’s interesting to notice streaks of wisdom with forehead slapping -you were so 19! Not that I did too many stupid things just that when you’re that young, you’re brave with inexperience.
While I didn’t write about my wardrobe I was thinking about what I wore back then: Black tights with jean shorts, Doc Martens, a plaid shirt and a velvet hat, rim tipped up. I swear on my life that was fashionable. (I think.)
I wore Juba-Juba Perfume Oil from The Body Shop. Sometimes I dipped myself in it when I knew I was going to the University of London Union and would see the bartender I had a crush on. He was tall and looked like a cross between a greaser from the 50s and a New Wave punk rocker. I got heart bubbles every time I saw him. I might have been the most perfumed Grunge girl on the planet. I imagine the fragrance coming off of me like Pig Pen’s cloud of dust only mine was of the clean and flowery variety. People still talked to me. That was good. No luck with the bartender though.
I can’t say that I didn’t have self-conscious thoughts back then. What teenager isn’t self-conscious? But it is fortifying to see how little fear existed in everything I did. Whether it was traveling alone to Dublin for a week or flying to Poland with a mission to meet family (some I had never met before, some I hadn’t seen in 16 years )or wearing my best plaid to talk to a punky bartender, I did so with curiosity leading the way. I just went with it. No noise. Nothing to overcome. Nothing to reason out. The motivation of doing what I wanted was pure.
It’s good to know that 19 year old is still inside me. It hollers up to my almost 40 year old self and says, Keep going!