I’ve always been obsessed with my family’s old photo albums; they bring back memories so far gone that sometimes I think I’ll never get them back. On a recent visit with my parents, my dad (while looking for some important papers in a tightly-packed drawer) stumbled upon some albums from his own childhood and teenage years. It was the seventies and eighties; the bell-bottoms were nothing short of epic, the plaids were so bad they were good, and the floral-prints were downright groovy.
Where to begin? Look at those pants (second from the left, like you didn’t already notice)!
Then there’s my grandmother and Auntie Ruth in plaid (on the right). Also note my
Uncle Bill’s hair (centre, back) and that awesome shearling coat in the front row.
Here’s my dad’s mum in a poppy-printed dress, belted at the waist. Spring inspiration?
Well, what do we have here? There’s some wicked-cool knee-high socks with what looks
like a school kilt and a leather jacket. Then there’s the mustard yellow tops (far left, far right), and
my dad in double-denim (front and centre). My cousin Adam sports a bonnet and one-piece sleeper.
Dad’s mum again, this time wearing a simple, navy, nautical-themed outfit.
Auntie Ruth, perfectly happy in purple flowers. If I were in that dress, I’d be smiling too.
I don’t have any recollection of the events at which these photos were taken — I hadn’t yet been born. But somehow, looking at these albums, I’d like to think I was there. I’d like to think my personal style grew from all of these people. Because, after all, I knew my parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents before I knew my right shoe from my left.
- Stephanie Fereiro