Those '80s

Here I am, lover boy, dancing with my sister's best friend Megan at my parents' 25th wedding anniversary party at the Brazil Room.  That would be 1987.  I bought the suit and clip-on bow-tie combo at a favorite vintage shop on Thayer St in Providence, Rhode Island. Though baggy and ill-fitting, wearing it made me feel like a hundred bucks and not a dollar more.  I was into some sorta college style back then and a lot of it picked up at the second hand stores.  There was a great one in Berkeley, too : Aardvarks, on Telegraph Avenue, which racked all sorts of moth-ball smelling vetements and known for its Hawaiian shirts.

So, while I love dancing, I never did learn how to, you know, dance. Sonnet and I took a few lessons anticipating our wedding waltz to "Moon River" (of course) and , on at least one occasion, I aimed for the tango with some other willing friends. No, my "moves" honed at the yuf-ful discotheques of San Francisco and NYC; in college, it was "funk night" and now, the occasional PTA school party or, even more infrequently, a Soho night club. I have learned , to maintain any dignity, to slow down and channel John Travolta's Vincent Vega. It just about works and, hey, at least I am out there.

"Let us dance in the sun, wearing wild flowers in our hair."
--Susan Polis Shutz