Today’s project: Sorting through the vintage (uh, mid-century) totes in the garage. Time for Pandora on the iPhone, streaming tunes from the 60s and 70s.
On the left, my beloved Beatles sweatshirt from 1964. I should have worn it to the concert in Jacksonville, my one and only chance to see the Beatles ever. Mama didn’t let me go. I was eight years old and heartbroken.
Another 17 years passed before I attended my first concert. The Stones came to Dallas in 1981. Rained so hard I thought Mick Jagger would float off the stage. I wore an basic black Hefty bag during the deluge.
What’s important to note is the size of both shirts. Tiny. That’s something I’m not now.
Let me post something else tiny. That’s a size 5 bathing suit. I wore it the day I turned 42. Wish I had a picture of myself that day on my friend’s boat.
I didn’t snap photos of my 1980s maternity dresses (with post-baby belts) or my bountiful collection of figure skating fan T-shirts. They’re gone now, but my Spiro T. Agnew shirt is still safety tucked away for posterity. Better leave a note explaining who he was, though.