Diary of a 90’s Fangirl
Dear Composition Notebook,
I was record shopping with my daughter the other day…yeah, a daughter can you believe it…and we completely went about our plan of attack in completely different ways. I had a list. She did not. I had a mission. She did not. We both left with bags of records under our arms.
The thing that we had in common was we were both looking for music. Music that we wanted to listen to, loudly…or softly…it doesn’t really matter. I think back to some of my favorite childhood moments. There was music involved. Whether it was my Dad educating me on how to clean my records or help me put together my first stereo system. (An LXI dual cassette, component, shelf set up, for those of you that are curious). Or whether it was riding in the car with the 8 track blaring, through the shady streets of the Garden District. There was always music there.
Even as I became a tweenager, and my tastes began to vary DRASTICALLY from those of my parents, there was still so much joy to be found in music. The sharing of it with him, the debates that would follow. My Dad was NOT a fan of Depeche Mode. Whose Dad was in 1989-1995?
I already see it in how Mara’s tastes are her own. She continues to tolerate some of the tunes that we bonded over when she was itty bitty. She, like me, is a fan of wearing black and grey, or as my Dad would call it, Pastel Black. I’m very okay with her choices, even if they are very far away from my own. It is a constant topic of conversation as she gets older and her tastes deepen.
Again, the commonality is that we both LOVE music and believe that it makes our lives better. We like what we like. To quote the ever-evolving Mr. Grohl: “There are no guilty pleasures. You like what you like. Play it loudly and play it proudly.”
We very much intend to…until the cops show up and tell us to turn it down.
Yours in fandom