Ok a title like that might sound a little odd being a “youngin” at 29 for the moment (give me until mid-Sept and I hit the big 30). I went in to town today, ready for a 2:00 appointment with the headshrinker (all part of the fibro game) and I decided to do a little shopping. Now the thing is, for those who know me, I like very few kinds of shopping, and clothes isn’t one of them. But I go in to town, wearing my nice baggy green pants, my long sleeve black Nightwish concert shirt and flip flops. Now as I walk around, I observe that the 80s are back in “Style”. Now the the question that comes to mind, was the 80s ever really stylish? I do not know the answer to that, since I am still traumatized by the perms that BOTH my parents had. The hot pink, electric yellow and the spandex pants are all coming back to haunt. The plastic bangle bracelets and big hoop earrings line the displays. I can’t help but notice the poor young souls that have gotten caught up in this and have done the “punk” look to a T but with out the understanding of what punk is. I laugh at the “modern” additions created to go with this look so they don’t look too out of place when the 90s come rolling in a year or two.

But I digress, I think. I am at the shops, keeping in mind the hot things on sale for the past few months, and decide to get those beloved shoes I had so many years ago. The thing is, my husband, being a “modern” man, HATES the shoes I had. When I was 7 my parents took my brother and I on a trip to California. I remember that trip very fondly and look back at it and smile. When we were in Carmel my parents gave the credit card to my brother, then 10, and had us go and get the shoes we really wanted. They were at the store down the street from the restaurant (Hog’s Breath) we were eating at and so we wandered off. After a few minutes of shopping and trying them on my brother was sporting a brand new pair of black Chucks and I had a pair of nice red Chuck All Star Converse high tops. I wore those things until they died on me, they were my basketball shoes, my tennis shoes, and my out of uniform shoes. They were awesome. Now pushing 30 I didn’t think I could pull off the red anymore so I thought I would tone the look down with the black ones. As I get to the one store that I know sells them, I find that they are out of my size. CRAP!!

But not taking no for an answer, as you can probably see in my other blogs, I go to other stores. I end up at Foot Locker. The last store I was going to try. I see the Chucks, I see the price, I see the other bright colors that might take me off the trail of those normal looking black ones. But finally I see a new product from my long time friends, the female All Stars. Now there is also the ballerina shoes that are really popular here in Europe so All Stars have come with their answer. They look like the old Converse, but muted down to a subtle, more feminine shoe. I couldn’t be happier. As if it was meant to be the one on the shelf was my size. Delighted and trying not to squeal I grab the shoe and head to the guy asking for the ones in the exact size I am holding. I try it on and like it was made for me I wanted to get up and dance. But I am too refined *cough* for that. I ask him for the pair and say I will take them. As he is routing around the back for them I find the pair of socks to set my whole outfit off, a pair of ankle black socks with skulls on them. I pay and put the socks and shoes on (hey it’s the Netherlands and it’s raining here and cold and I’m wearing flip flops, what do you expect?).

Now I am not finished with my make over back into the past me. I walked to shopping center near the Foot Locker and decide to get my haircut. I wanted to do this anyway since I am starting to like it shorter. So I go in and look at the clock and think I might have enough time before my head shrinking. When I get on the chopping block I tell her what I want and when she has finished I went away very happy. My hair dries up shorter than I thought but I am really happy with it. So I finish talking with the shrink and get home really happy. Then it dawns on me, I have gone through my mid life crisis. I have changed my clothes, my hair and walked with an air that says ” Look at me, I’m younger than I look and not as stupid as these kids”, the only thing I am missing is my purple Porsche and my 18 year old secretary. So I guess until I have the last two things, it is not really a mid life crisis, just me finally being “in fashion”.