...or, more to the point, gowns on!
Despite having had made no legitimate contribution to anything of significance produced at the time —that is, aside from copious soiled diapers and spoiled nights for my parents— I consider it with great pride to count myself among the products of 1982, be it film to fashion to music. My mind first runs to the many illuminated screens captivating America, be it theater-wide with surround sound or living-room-small and dual-speaker. At immediate reference come affectingly bleak, game-changing fantasies Blade Runner, The Dark Crystal, and The Last Unicorn; in our homes the launch of Cheers, David Letterman’s The Late Show, Siskel and Ebert’s approachable At The Movies, and, blessedly, the final musical routines of Lawrence Welk's gasping-along, increasingly out-of-ouch revue hour. (Of course, the kitsch quota on TV would be resupplied tenfold by the introduction of David Hasselhoff's ridiculous Knight Rider and —capping its sophomore outing— the continuing, weirdly captivating histrionics of the OG Dynasty.) Cresting over the radio waves would have been new tracks by Duran Duran —the coolest band to ever reference Barbarella— alongside the best of Men At Work and charismatically chameleonic David Bowie. Meanwhile, on the actual, post-disco dance arena, no less than Madonna herself was rocketing to NYC club success with her plucky debut single, "Everybody," succeeding Debbie Harry's Blondie which would disband after the release of the group's sixth studio album. Lady Madge’s sweeping influence upon the decade’s look would be unparalleled by few others, although there is equal argument for properly recognizing the shoulder-padded diva-du-jour Joan “Alexis” Collins, if not those legwarmer pioneers within the urban dance troupes, also of New York, populating “Fame” —be it in the 1980 film version or its successful 1982 spinoff, serialized for TV and of the same name. And of course there is the aforementioned Ziggy Stardust a.k.a. The Thin White Duke a.k.a. future goblin king.
I am compelled to submit these thoughts this evening because today began my one-month countdown to turning the intimidating age of forty. Thus far, in loosely planning for the event, I’m considering the resurrection of this Studio 54-worthy, rather appropriately named NEWLEAF by Samir fan-pleated mermaid gown. The garment, seen below, is not from 1982 per se —internet sleuthing proves it reached maximum exposure closer to 1986 when no less than Vanna White, then the perfect likeness of glitzy pageantry, donned a shorter version on the cover of PEOPLE Magazine in what was known by the manufacturer simply as "Style 9870." Nevertheless, it’s evocative of the era and has thus far been really only collecting dust in my closet —along with, I imagine, moths were it not of a slinky metallic acetate! It’s probably my favorite of the dresses I currently own, having been once-upon-a-summer purchased on eBay when I was young and naïve enough to believe I’d ever see a need to command Hollywood-level glamour or attention. (Incidentally, according to a post found on the blog Alluring Marilyn.com circa early 2015, at that season’s Golden Globes actress Jessica Chastain and singer Lana Del Rey were both spotted in the sort of “knife-pleated lamé” once conceived as a glistening golden halter-neck body-hugger for Marilyn Monroe by her good friend and costume designer William Travilla. As reported by this source, Del Rey was in fact donning a vintage Travilla design that night, while Chastain was in Versace, although easily mistakable for the same.)
In all honesty, I'm not sure if I will feel the need, confidence, or sheer ambition to ever publicly display myself in the "Travilla-via-Vanna" knock-off, but I’d like to think that I indeed WILL before my milestone year reaches its final hours on August 25th, 2023, should I still be "around." And If for whatever reason I should shuffle off this mortal coil I respectfully request to be buried in it, or else burned —despite the likely toxic fumes and stale nicotine musk of that particular synthetic garment. And now with all that having been stated for online consumption, I am officially saluting the class of '82, be they graduates of the crib (such as myself) or of the strongest threads in the polyester acetate-type fabric of early-'80s pop culture.
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