According to my readers who follow astrology Saturn really has been retrograde, but slipped out of it today, or possibly yesterday. Lots of action and noise, not much actual movement forward. I'd say that's an excellent description of my life right now. I'd also say I'm feeling uncharacteristically morbid and grim. I could do without the sad introspection.
I could also do without having seen a terrible movie called Lord Love a Duck two nights ago. It was excruciatingly bad but I can't get it out of my mind. 1966 was a miserable year for fashion. The high school kids looked like they were 40, and Roddy McDowell's "zany" antics grated on my nerves so badly I changed the channel after 15 minutes. But that 15 minutes is burned into my brain. Nnnnggggh.
See, I hate the 60's. I dislike the 70's, and I'm not too big on the 50's. What I mean by this is I hate the clothes and hairstyles. That squinchy pointy shoe of the 50's, eurgh. That puffy, fake hair of the 60's. That ghastly, uncomfortable bodysuit of the 70's. I think everyone looked butt ugly. The colors were either muddy or fluorescent, the styles were angular and blocky, no one looked really young except the hippies, and I absolutely loathed the way girls were expected to dress. I realize this is kind of a personal problem, and it's a little weird to telescope three decades into one stylistic grouping, but there it is.
Tonight I watched Entertainment's Fashion Week special and discovered the 80's are back. Whee! Now that's something I can embrace. Where are my leggings and oversized tunics?
Two final words for Americans: Gore-Lieberman. You don't want the alternative, really you don't.
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