Tom and I have been Netflix-ing (is that a verb?) The X Files nonstop for a week and I found myself obsessing to the point where I was missing major plot points (the volcano drilling let loose a silicone-based life form, a parasite that incubates INSIDE PEOPLE!) about Scully’s flawless 90’s face and power suits. The sheer brick red lip, the bronzed earth tone eye, this look is EVERYTHING, 90’s style.
Which got me to reminiscing (I am officially old enough to reminisce) about being a pre-teen in the 90s. I know you’re probably thinking, ‘So? You weren’t a teenager, you were a little kid then.” But being a pre-teen, particularly being a pre-teen Tara, was HELLA INTENSE. The angst bomb had JUST gone off inside me, and although I wanted nothing more than to be a chic, sexy woman with a closet to die for and the makeup case to match my entire life, now it was SERIOUS. Of course, I had to be content with never-dangly-enough earrings from Claire’s and a rainbow of cheap nail polishes and strawberry Lip Smackers in a Caboodle, but I positively ached for womanhood, so I soaked in all of the late 80’s and early 90’s beauty trends like a crazed little sponge, waiting for the day when I could unleash it all on an unsuspecting world. But then when I finally started to reach an age at which such choices would have been a bit more feasible, BOOM – the pop tarts attacked. Everyone on the radio looked like the girls who picked on me and/or ignored me, with their crop tops and their 3 inch inseams on their flare jeans. Ew. This was not womanhood. I didn’t want to look like just another ‘hottie’, never wanted to pierce my bellybutton, and I hated Abercrombie & Fitch. Fuck lip gloss, I wanted matte red lipstick and the attitude to go with it! Enter the antiheroines of the 90’s, who SAVED me, but whose style I have all but forsaken as I’ve grown up. Forgive me, ladies, and allow me to remind the world of your wicked hella awesomeness.
Ah, Alanis – she sang the soundtrack of my angst, the woman who made my way-too-long all-one-length brown hair super cool (at least to me) again, whose earthy beauty look made it less painful for me that my mom didn’t let me wear much makeup to school. Hey, man, I’m an angry girl too, it’s just what we DO. Well, that, and wear pleather pants. As if, Mom.
Now, Daria and Jane weren’t just my inspiration, I wanted to BE them. They were edgier, angrier, and more fashionable than I was, but I watched and learned all the same. And dude, Jane’s brother (Trent, sigh) WAS hot, you have to admit.
Shirley’s style was INSANE to me – so badass and fearless, yet always with that sexy, feminine edge I always craved. I loved her music, but I simply adored her. No duh, LOOK at that bold lip and eye combo! And if you don’t agree, whatever.
And so, because reality DOES bite, I got dressed filled with all of this inspiration and armed with the BEST fishnets out there and my trusty Clinique Black Honey (buy a tube and remember just how great it really is, even when not from a free gift with purchase) and met Tom for dinner, stomping and feeling like the grrrrrl little Tara wanted to be, but expecting the hubby to flinch just a bit at the throwback (although he’s pretty used to my *ahem* odd wardrobe by now). Guess what? HE LOVED IT.
Although considering our shared love for Chris Cornell, I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised, huh? Or maybe the 90’s and its style are worth revisiting. Try it, I swear – your inner teenager will be SO PSYCHED, she’ll think you’re all that and a bag of chips.
Did we seriously say that? Ugh. I’m so outtie.