Gosport exhibition shows '80s fashion in all its glory | Zella Compton
I can’t decide quite how I feel to see my childhood being exhibited.On the one hand, when I visited Search museum’s I Grew Up 80s exhibition in Gosport, I was delighted to look at the movie posters, the records and toys.
And who can forget the Athena print? The fit man with a baby….
On the other hand, am I really that old that my childhood is being iconised?
What really struck me about the exhibition was the fashion.
The sign points out that women didn’t wear all the items at once, it’s an example of the style of clothing.
But it wouldn’t have surprised me to see someone hanging out in Fareham precinct in that ensemble.
The ra-ra skirt – god how I adored mine – the leg warmers, jelly sandals and shoulder pads.
It was all about taking ownership back then, of big hair, big make-up and big wrist-wear – chunky jewellery, leather bands, bits of lace.
Pile it on and smash it out of the box, conform to non-conformity.
I thought Madonna was the queen of simply smashing it alongside Annie Lennox, and Cyndi Lauper.
We had a whole lot of awesome women making some awesome sounds but sadly in the exhibition there was no mention of We’ve Got A Fuzzbox And We’re Gonna Use It – possibly the worst titled band in the world and often shortened to Fuzzbox.
But they were also epic mid-80s favourites of mine, singing about rules and regulations.
There was something so punky, so spiky about the ‘80s and women’s fashion within it.
It was all about taking control, and not being afraid of colour or shapes.
I look at those growing up today and I’m not sure how anyone will dress up for parties from this decade, in the years to come.
It feels a bit bland, except for skinny jeans rolled up.
Perhaps I’ve missed something.
Maybe I will be looking at mannequins in 30 years, at my children’s teens being revised and think, ‘ah, of course’.
But what that ‘of course’ will be, fashion-wise, I’m simply stumped.
We’re forced to take the car while train seats go empty
Guess how much a return ticket to Birmingham for me and my daughters costs.
It is a a rip- roaring, side-tickling £400-plus, and that’s not at peak times. I am amazed. The hotel for the three of us is £40, the concert we’re going to is £100 for the three of us.
And yet the travel is so astronomically high. We could bring that figure down substantially if we’re willing to make 82 changes and take a week making the journey. Okay, that’s a little exaggerated, but still.
We’d probably be able to fly across most of Europe for that price and have spare change for a latte once we got there. I’m going to drive, while train carriages hurtle around with empty seats.
There will be no Apple TV binge-watching in our house
Apple TV has happened with more of a ‘what the . . .?’ whimper than a bang.
I signed up for my week trial and suffered through three episodes of Dickinson before concluding I couldn’t bear anything so grottily repellent for another episode.
I then tried The Morning Show with Jennifer Aniston and Reese Witherspoon which was terrific for three episodes but that’s all there were.
I’m not willing to pay a monthly subscription for a streaming service that wants to control binge viewing.
So I’m out even though the pain of unsubscribing, keeping me looped into an endless unhelpful wheel on the website, nearly kept me trapped for the foreseeable future.