Mostly, when I think of my teenage years, I wish I had been my own mother or older sister, saying, “Uh, no,” to any number of bad fashion choices I actually left the house in. Also keep in mind, please, that I grew up in the 80s, a decade marked by bad fashion and bizarre trends that we all loved at the time but definitely don’t want to revisit in real time. So when I was asked what from my teen years I’d sell at a garage sale, I just smiled, and thought – pretty much everything from my bedroom and closet. So with that in mind, the following would be for sale at the Teen Years Garage Sale, this weekend, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m., come early for best selection:
- The curling iron I regularly got my so-long-I-could-sit-on-it hair stuck in.
- Bottles of Sun-In that were supposed to add sun-kissed highlights to my blonde hair but just turned it orange.
- My pink-and-green plaid – yes, plaid – jumper – yes, jumper.
- The Rubik’s Cube I never solved.
- The round, white telephone I asked for in 9th grade.
- A shoebox full of eye shadow – mostly in shades of purple, which did not, as a beauty expert in some magazine wrote, highlight the blue of my eyes but made me look like I’d gotten punched in them, instead.
- Benetton sweaters – name the color, I had it.
- Big barrettes with a big bow on each one – in a variety of colors to match my nifty Benetton sweaters.
- One defective Ouija board. Never got one reliable message from the spook world, but, in retrospect, I’m glad of that. There are certain things I do not wish to tamper with now, and the spook world is definitely one of them.
- Tennis shoe roller skates – size 8.5.
- Roughly 14 pairs of argyle socks in such nifty color combinations as gray and pink or blue and green.
- One complete Trivial Pursuit game. (Though I might reconsider selling this. It may be fun to play now.)
- Maroon-colored pea coat. The entire school had navy blue. My mother just had to make me different and buy me a maroon one.
- Portable, electric typewriter weighing roughly 12 pounds. That and a watch were my high school graduation presents. I’m keeping the watch.
- The electronic game Simon, batteries not included.
- A Sony Walkman, which was like strapping a brick onto my waist, but I wore that brick every day.
- Wicker bookshelves, tipping slightly to the right.
- bunch of different Swatch Watches.
- multiple tennis skirts – hideously ugly “tennis panties” included.
- A three-year collection of Torch newspapers – my high school paper – containing every article I ever wrote or edited and every page I designed.
- One boom-box with built-in cassette player, and a complete collection of Styx and R.E.M. tapes up to 1989.
- a doll collection my mother and grandmothers were determined to give me despite my protestations one Christmas that “I hate this doll crap.”
- one rarely used guitar, despite 2 years of lessons.
- One add-a-pearl necklace that stopped getting added to after about 13 pearls the size of tomato seeds.
- My all maroon – apparently to match my pea coat – Buick Skylark, four doors, boxy, bench seats, no cruise control, no fm radio, no power locks, no power windows, excellent condition. I loved that car, but – really – everything but the seatbelt buckles was maroon.
- And for that lucky person who shares my initials (ESM): a bewildering array of monogrammed sweaters, shirts, sheets, towels, cushions, jewelry, tote bags, paper, stationary, pens and pencils and – are you sitting down? – a pink, plastic shoe-organizer with the name Erin printed in big black letters at the top. I know. It sounds too good to be true, but, no, really. I had it.