today after snapping this shot, i hitched a ride downtown with my roomie to go sell some books and wander the streets where i used to think i was a badass at fifteen. i remember being in my pointy toes boots and my depeche mode shirt and torn fishnet stockings under a little teeny skirt with friends laughing and a clove cigarette dangling between my fingers. back then it was the galleria with jay jacobs and a record store and an ice cream shop and the place upstairs that would sell us smokes, with an escape’s pizza place across the street where we could hang out before walking down to the hole in the wall that used to be second avenue records. i favored the new order twelve inch singles where you never knew the name of the song, you had to know the picture of the single (yellow leaf over blue backdrop = true faith). on the weekends we’d come back and dance at the club to what they called progressive new-wave, ministry and the cure and siouxsie and erasure and depeche mode and book of love and dead or alive. i always loved the boys who could dance, who were comfortable enough in their own skin to get out there and move. this was just before janes addiction turned many of them into mosh pits and before shitty grunge flannel crap overtook the airways and before rappers talked about violence and before clubs became about grinding behind the girl. just after sadie hawkins, when club mtv was still doin’ it’s thing and we watched 120 minutes late at night after one too many rum and cokes, but before we were of legal age and our boyfriends discovered heroin and seattle. it was a slice of in between, the late eighties that i grew up in. vintage shops were affordable and you could put your latest favorite pair of docs or suede pointy buckle boots on layaway til your allowance and orange julius income could cover it. we saw shows at starry night and pine street theater and the x-ray cafe and i had a secret crush on my friend who played the bass and looked like morton harket from a-ha and would sing songs to me. and these are parts of me i no longer try to escape.
i walk the streets of my hometown and i see myself in my footsteps. my shadow is everywhere.