It was the comparison to Randall Flagg that drew me in. No, that's a lie, I think it was the helvetica-loving annotation right in the header that did it.
The Baby-Sitters Club. Oh yikes. Just the sort of girlie, saccharine-sweet series that used to fill my secondary school library shelves (and teenage-me used to turn her mouth down and nose up at). Like it or not, eventually I'd read it anyway, just for something to do (and secretly enjoy every bit of it).
What Claudia Wore is giving me fits of teenage memories.. If I had a time machine and upon my travels encountered my teenage self, I 'd kick the gangling, bespectacled girl with the silly hair-cut and ridiculous cloths. Or maybe I'd just point and laugh, Nelson Muntz style.
I really didn't do myself any favours back then.
From the obligatory angst, over fits of misguided spirituality, to the heavy make-up (my eyes are small to begin with, but positively piggy under layers of eyeliner) I was a disaster zone. Taller than all the boys my age (they caught up a couple of years later) and still having bee-stings for breasts I secretly harboured fears I might be a hermaphrodite (who could blame the parents for keeping it a secret?). The cloths were worst though. Honestly, you just wouldn't believe the cloths. For example I had pairs of violent orange and green jeans, which I wore with a pair of Grandfather suspenders. Passers-by had to shield their eyes. There was one garment I used to practically live in though: A flowing ankle-lengh, see-through, empire-waist, patchwork (yes, I said patchwork) dress. Thinking back on it I can't help but see the similarity to Celia of The Virgin Suicides and her ruined wedding gown. I must have thought I was a character in a bodice ripper.
Anyway - if you ever feel like a bit of time travel with a twist: Go see what Claudia wore. The other half keeps getting distracted from his Bounty Hunt (gots to get paid) because this blog is causing me to laugh out loud like a lunatic.