Time and place

by missmaudy

I may have seen part of Big Brother tonight (no, I really wasn’t watching it – I wouldn’t do that sort of thing, I am a nice, literary type with much higher standards in that sort of thing) and one of the characters asked the others what era they would have liked to have lived in…I don’t know what the other characters thought because I wasn’t watching  (I think the token lesbian quite fancied the 50’s) . Anyway, that got me thinking while I was doing other stuff like dishes and cooking, chasing children, and definitely not watching Big Brother.

So what era would I have preferred? While I like the fashions and the style of the forties and the fifties – not sure I approve of the morals and the mores of the time. Wasn’t a great time to be a woman – well, not the type of woman that I am, anyway. Don’t mind the music from that period, but imagining life without Thai food and decent coffee. (Yes, I know the cafe scene started in Melbourne in the late 1950’s but in all seriousness, halfway decent coffee has only made it to the country in the last ten years. OK, five years. Maybe three years… I digress)

The more I thought about it, the more I think I wouldn’t change a thing. Grew up in the eighties (true eighties child… born, born to be mild), might have been the decade that fashion forgot, but they still have Eighties Nights and the music is still cool. Daggy, but cool. I spent my twenties in the nineties – ditto for the music, and man – has to be the single most comfortable era of clothing ever – Blunnies went with everything, frocks and socks and boots was so cool and so comfy. And chuck on a flannel shirt when it was cold. I grew up a bit in the noughties – didn’t bother getting sensible until the turn of the century.

Now, the best part of spending my WIcked Youth in the late eighties and nineties was that I could (and possibly did) get up to all manner of shenanigans – probably not unlike the Wicked Youth of today, actually.

However, unlike the Wicked Youth of today, every inappropriate pash, every drunken spew, every inadvertent bosom reveal, and the odd deadset flash was not captured on smart phones and posted on the interwebs for all and sundry to see. There’s probably photographic evidence somewhere – but who keeps blurry, out of focus strangers you don’t really remember? Unlike the interwebs with tags and sharing and all manner of indiscretions are there for everyone to see.

We didn’t even get mobile phones until the late 90’s – and all they did was make and take calls. VOICE calls. No texts, definitely no sexts – perhaps the odd dirty phone call, but nothing saved for posterity or future employers! And the only interaction I have with past inappropriate pashes is when I wander past them in the supermarket, kids in tow, wry smiles that say “I think I know you from somewhere, but it was probably the nineties” and we leave it at that.

So yeah, happy with the time I have had. And I wouldn’t change a thing – although I may just purchase a couple of fabulous frocks…