Sunday, August 22, 2004

I am a teenager in denial! Yesterday I went to the Supre factory outlet in Collingwood.
"Oh, is it for research?" people have been saying.
"Ummm, yeah... research, that's right..." I have been responding.

I found out about the sale when I was doing some 'research' at their wonderful
website, which has the most wonderful teen-girl language. I was amusing myself by reading large slabs of it aloud to Gemma in an excited high-pitched voice. (Gemma is so stressed with confirmation right now that she probably just endured this because it's the path of least resistance!) Anyway, nothing was over $5, though that was a big lie because when I got there, some things were $10.

I went with Shane. When I met him, I was very excited. "It's all last year's clothes and they're playing last year's music too!" I told him. (I had left to go meet him and they'd been playing "Never Leave You (Uh Oh)".) Shane behaves with much more dignity than me in public, which may seem strange because just the night before he had gone out to an 80s night wearing a black, flesh-coloured and holographic fabric leotard and a pink trucker cap that said "I'm with stupid." And he lost the hat, but was too embarrassed to call up the venue to see if it had been handed in. That made me laugh. Shane often seems to encounter such delicious situations.

I bought two slinky evening tops: one was that colour in between pink and red that's so hot right now, with a silver paint-spatter print, with a halter neck and cowl neckline. The other is a slinky black singlet with a cowl neck and a disciplinarian strap across the chest to keep it from falling off. I was going to wear one of them out last night, except I didn't get home til 1-ish.

Oh, also I went to the Vic Market and I bought one of those silly hats that has been obsessing me - the sort that's a cross between a knitted headband and a visor. I disobeyed my own Pink Default rule and bought black. When I told Penny, she said she would have to lend me her own such hat, that Tash had bought for her on the very day, weeks ago, that I said I wanted to get one. I was so infuriated by that.

Anyway, that afternoon I began to fret that I am behaving like a teenager; or more precisely, like I would have behaved as a teenager if I could spend my money on whatever I liked, and was as shameless and smutty as I am now. I started to think about this when I was getting ready for the 90s party: how I wasted my vital youth dressing like I was 40 and not taking drugs or sneaking out my bedroom window to go clubbing or to boys' houses. And how the way I behave now is some way to try and make up for that.

This really hit home when I was on the 86 tram with three teenage girls. One was having a mobile-phone fight with a friend of hers who wanted to borrow her new blazer. "Everyone will think it's her blazer!" she complained. And I was thinking sheepishly about how Tash stole my hat idea. I sat down next to the three girls and realised with a terrible jolt that I was dressed like a parody of them. I looked down to put down my bag, and I was wearing yellow Converse All-Star sneakers. The chick to my left was wearing beige ones. The chick opposite her was wearing red ones and the chick opposite me was wearing blue ones. We were all wearing tight jeans and zip-up jackets. We all were wearing cheesy bling. We all had straightened hair. And we all had carry bags from el cheapo slutto teenwear stores. And then later on, when I went to augment my already impressive underwear collection at Target, who should I see in the change rooms but the same three chicks! (I bought a pink Bonds bra and black lace underpants with pink lace trim and pink satin ribbon bow.)

Later, I went to see Ruth's
band, who were awesome!! They were so good! You see, there are bands you go to cos you like the band. Then there are what I call Friends' Bands, which you have to assess based on totally different criteria. 1) Musical Virtuosity. 2) Stage Presence. 3) Concept Originality. I think I've discussed this before with reference to the Young Professionals, who I went to see at the hateful Ding Dong Lounge last week (and it was crawling with hot men! Oh, why do hot men have to be pretentious Vice Magazine Wankers?) and they have actually improved out of sight - they're kicking goals in all three criteria now.

But I was really blown away by Absinthe's musical talent. I thought they were just great. I don't really like rock music, but they were great.

But one thing I realised on Saturday night is that even though I act like a teenager, and my mother is the first to volunteer I am "immature", I think I'm way savvier that I was when I was actually a teenager. Although that might just be cynicism rather than sagacity.

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