Last night I went to a 1970s themed party. Basically, the ultimate party theme anyone really could have chosen to suit me and my wardrobe. I could have also worked with a 1960s theme or a 1950s theme of course, but I digress. I wore an outrageous polyester maxi dress, with a rainbow skirt and rainbow tiered sleeves that will most likely never have occasion to be worn again and now lays strewn on my green chair.
I had fun at said party - the hosts are privileged enough to own a projector and it was hooked up to a computer, with internet access - thus access to the realms of Youtube and access to any possible thing we could ever think of in the world, projected up on a huge wall. We watched and danced to ABBA, Kool and the Gang, James Brown, Macy Gray, Snoop Dogg... the possibilities were literally endless. It got very late and we started watching old Sesame Street clips. At 20 years old, watching Sesame Street projected up on the wall of an Art School share house at 2am on a Saturday night after a few glasses of wine is up there as one of the weirdest and most wonderful things I've experienced.
I got home finally and my little cactus that lives on my windowsill is blooming. I swear it's grown a good centimetre in the past week - it must be spring, the sunshine - the fact that I've been remembering to water it occasionally. It's beautiful, anyway - as is my awfully hot, scratchy, flammable, hideously incredible 70s dress that I'll hang away probably still smelling of cigarettes. As I think about my experience wearing said dress I wonder about what weird and wonderful experiences the person before me had in it in the 70s, and if they were at all comparable to mine. What I love is that ONLY THE DRESS KNOWS and I can only speculate. I do know that whatever it was, it must have been pretty damn groovy, I mean, THOSE SLEEVES!