June 27, 2007

The dogs of the day, summer 1982.

Memories of the Chipwich -- see previous post -- led me back to this article (TimesSelect link) about the fads of the summer of 1982:
Down coats and spinach salads, high-tech sofas and sauces nouvelles, Rubik's Cube and the Chipwich, cats and Donkey Kong, Izod shirts and sequined head antennae, sesame noodles and the resurgent miniskirt - all have burst upon us sporadically.
Bursting resurgent miniskirts... remember?

Sequined head antennae... haven't thought about them in a long while.
Now it is the time of the akita. The akita is a dog, simply a dog with a certain historical cachet, to be sure, of an ancient breed native to Japan and apparently possessing an admirable character, but just a dog. Yet undeniably the akita is the New York dog of the moment, and to have one is to be exceptionally modish.
What a lucky dog, to have been the dog of the moment.
Linda Ronstadt and Yoko Ono own akitas, and one buyer confessed that he had bought one because Judith Jameson, the dancer, has one. On Sunday mornings the small Village park at Horatio and Hudson Streets becomes a gathering place for akitas and their owners, a place for the dogs to play and their owners to preen over pets burdened with such names as Mick Jagger, Dr. Pangloss, Mercedes, Gorm, Black Shogun and Kuma, the last meaning ''bear'' in Japanese.
Ah, for the days when one longed to be like Linda Ronstadt and Yoko Ono.

And yet, Yoko Ono was on Larry King last night. Tonight, Larry's got this summer's fad, Paris Hilton.

How will you think about her -- if you survive so long -- a quarter century from now? Will all the meaningless little things seem deeply evocative? They will -- if you are still alive.

Do not neglect to love the sequined head antennae of today.

27 comments:

Bissage said...

The faddish of Manhattan learned the hard way about the disadvantages of owning a poorly trained guard dog, IIRC.

Pogo said...

Ugh. My entire high school and college years were bookended by awfulness, fore by disco, and aft by Duran Duran. Carter's malaise and was followed by dystopian millenialism.

There were a few good things, Elvis Costello among them. But the most of it was ephemera. It's fun to pick up an old LIFE or Photoplay and see the same waves of nothingness crash upon the cultural shore, only to be followed by another and another still. In time, every briefly glittering rock is beaten into sand and ultimately forgotten.

Remember Linda Darnell?
Or much of 1947 at all?
Neither do I.
1982 is similarly lapsing into a hazy past.

Roost on the Moon said...

It's a lot of fun thinking about the fads of the '00s.
______________________

Schlocky 24-hour cable news (Wishful thinking, I admit; this one might not be going anywhere)

The children have "ADD", the aging men have "Erectile Disfunction", and TV tells us to "Ask your doctor about the purple pill"

The Daily Show

iPods

Terror Paranoia (ORANGE ALERT!)

Git-R-Dun

Nader

Zombie Movies

Torture Movies? (Seems like an emerging trend.)

Deification of Jolie/Pitt

Blogging?
_____________________

It's fun, try it!

Pogo said...

I'm nostalgic for yesterday's future.

Roost on the Moon said...

I'm nostalgic for yesterday's future.

Well put. I think that makes a lot of us, though probably for different reasons. To quote Sarah Vowell, on Bush II:

"I talk about going to his inauguration and standing there crying when he took the oath cause I was so afraid that he would wreck the economy and muck up the drinking water. The failure of my pessimistic imagination at that moment boggles my mind."

Pogo said...

Sarah Vowell's stuff is great. Loved her Assassination Vacation and The Partly Cloudy Patriot.

Meade said...

"Ah, for the days when one longed to be like Linda Ronstadt..."

The American explosion in obesity began in the early 1980's.

Bissage said...

Funny. When I read "Linda Ronstadt," the first thing I thought was "coke head."

It was rumored back in those days she had surgery to replace her burned-through septum or something.

Still, better than those Rod Stewart rumors.

steve simels said...

Do not neglect to love the sequined head antennae of today.

Well, that's exactly the kind of lapidary prose that has earned Ann her well deserved reputation as the Miss Havisham of Wingnuttia.
Simply stunning.

Adieu!

Roost on the Moon said...

Simels raises an interesting question:
Is "Attacking Upward" a fad of the '00s?

Chip Ahoy said...

Do not neglect to love the sequined head antennae of today.

Does this mean I must love Crocs? No.

Bissage said...

Golly gee willikers! [S]teve simels sure turned out to be a sorehead.

You’d think a guy so into pop music would love a line like "Do not neglect to love the sequined head antennae of today."

I know I do.

It's so wonderfully close to: "And while you’re at it, keep the nightlight on inside the birdhouse in your soul."

And who can argue with that?

Here’s the video

Enjoy.

Terry said...

How will I remember Paris Hilton 25 years from now? I'm sure it will be for the way she changed after her stay in jail--for her many humanitarian acts and her vows of chastity and poverty and how she gave her entire inheritance to the Gates Foundation to help fight AIDS and hunger in Africa. Yep, I'm pretty sure that's how we will remember her. . .

Anthony said...

What's with the 'sequined head antennae'? I don't remember those.

Unfortunately, '00s will also be remembered for tight shirts with bared midriffs and hip-hugger jeans that, unfortunately, showed the whole obesity thing to very bad effect.

Ruth Anne Adams said...

Sequined head antennae, if I recall correctly, started out as ping pong balls on wire, attached to a headband, used in Saturday Night Live's repeated skits with bees. I also remember calling them dealy-boppers in their pre-sequined manifestation.

ricpic said...

Paris Hilton looked magnificent coming out of jail. The bitch has genes, give her that. And genes rule. Always have. Always will. Deal with it, losers!

Palladian said...

"... And genes rule. Always have. Always will. Deal with it, losers!"

Genes rule, people. Hereditary monarchy is inevitable. Give up and accept the genetic master race of rich, white, felonious bimbos.

Pogo said...

He who makes the genes then will rule, soon enough.

I just want mine loose fitting and without the 1982 decorative stitching by Jordache, Sergio Velente, or Calvin Klein.

Bissage said...

Give up and accept the genetic master race of rich, white, felonious bimbos.

Or rather, the genetic master race of their intellectually superior, symbiotic controllers.

There is historical precedent, after all.

Roost on the Moon said...

Two Celebritney's Enter,
One Celebritney Leaves.

jane said...

A close family member met Paris in Paris over coffee at a hotel in which they were both staying about a year ago. Had some mutual friends and local parties in common, but nothing else.

I still hope it's all a dumb blonde heiress act on her part. Because if it is, the act makes a fool of both celebrity lovers and haters, in that they each care in their own special way...

reader_iam said...

Summer of '82--living and waitressing in Wildwood, NJ--oh, the memories!-- (silly sequined antennae and all; we used to make fun of 'em)--

ricpic said...

We get it jane. You have a relative who has an acquaintance with PH. You're a somebody.

jane said...

Exactly, ricpic.

Converging on celebrity is Everything. And we love it by hating it so, yes?

There's more, but I can only take so much animosity from somebody whose poetry I like :)

blake said...

Genes rule, people. Hereditary monarchy is inevitable. Give up and accept the genetic master race of rich, white, felonious bimbos.

That sounds like a great screenplay idea.

I'll contact Fred Olen Ray immediately.

Palladian said...

"I'll contact Fred Olen Ray immediately."

If only Russ Meyer were still with us.

hdhouse said...

Miniskirts???? (perkin right up)