I proudly graduated high school in 1970 in a class of 500.
I fondly remember black lights.
Disco.
Bell bottoms, especially on the girls – where they were tight in the hips and butt and flared out to cover the feet. Girls then and now look so cool in good bells! (Guys suck in the average bells.)
The male ‘perm’ which I though and still do think, sux. I never liked it on all of those Grecian and Roman statues that I studied years ago and I dislike it even more on guys my age who insist on wearing it.
Illuminated dance floors.
Colorfuul disco lights. (Coming back.)
Peasent blouses on girls.
Embroidered flowers on blue jean hip huggers.
Cool hairstyles on the girls.
The way the girls looked when dressed up for dancing.
The way the bands actually looked like they were having fun singing. (Not like today, where they look pissed all of the time.)
Hot cars with side pipes!
Chrome rims and functional raised rear ends on cars. (Not like the absolutely useless low riders of today.)
Black people did not walk around trying real hard to look bad, bald and bitchy. No one was named Tywanda, LaTishasa, LaTyra, Jamal, Mohammid and there were no Nubian princes or princesses. Just people who were Black.
Hot pants and ‘Sizzler’ skirts.
Punk Rock with the cool colored hair and wild looking chicks.
Platform shoes on women – they kinda sucked on guys – and gogo boots.
Huge round sunglasses.
Granny Skirts.
No AIDS.
Black light posters and string design kits.
Pot was the main drug, crack was unknown and no one tried to kill anyone because of being freaked out on hard stuff.
The ending of the hippy, scrawny, rib-showing, tanned or dirty, heavily bearded and long dirty haired, dirty footed male. (I never could understand how cool the 60s chicks could look and how nasty the 60s male could appear and be surrounded by cool chicks.)
