Circa 1985, Cheeyuh!

[the-spenstar.livejournal.com]

Bombdigity.

Exo Skeleton.

Cold Lampin'.

Bohunk.
Back in the days of M.A.S.H and when Motley Crew was totally dope, life was good. Life was great. You could safely say booyah without persecution and 'going out for a social fag' was completely acceptable. Granted, I was 7 in 1985, but that didn't stop me from watching Rambo II.  Or The Color Purple.  (I love purple.  It not only looks great with emerald, but also seafoam green.  Just let it roll over the tongue. Seafoam.)

To all those that lived through many a man-perm and hairy sternum, the 80's are a religion. A mecca of memories.

Buddha, in year form.

The 80's are over now, but there's no reason that all of you little vampires, aliens, and transforming robots out there still can't get in on the fiesta.

So without further adieu, I'm Shawn, "The Shiz Net" Spencer, and this is

WHILE YOU WERE OUT (IN A PARALLEL DIMENSION) (1985 EDITION!)

First, of course:  The music.  The tunes.  The beats.  Without its music and big hair, the eighties didn't exist.  This kids, is essential education 101. Now with samples!

Click, and rock out.

 
PRINCE:
Purple Rain.


 
My personal favorite.



Click me!




And again!




Also!




SECOND, the garb. The threads.   What made sexy what it is today.




1985 : first appearence in fashion of what I've affectionately dubbed the 'hangy chest blob. '

And of course, the hair. 





Oh, yes.





So horrible, it's chic.


LASTLY, : 1985 in flicks.

 











Rest in peace, robocop.