Susan Senator

Last night we went to a birthday party of two friends who proudly proclaimed they were turning forty this month. (Aww, only forty! How cute!) They had rented out a room in a club in Boston, hired a DJ, and made the theme be ’80’s. (I guess the ’80’s has some allure to the young folks; having come of age in the ’80’s I can tell you it was a cultural/musical/fashion wasteland. Big hair, big shoulders, flats and Madonna eyemakeup, Cyndi Lauper, Boy George, DuranDuran, Michael Jackson…)

I was in a bad mood beforehand because I did not know what to wear that would be both flattering and ’80’s like. I started out in a long frothy lavender tulle ballet skirt, pink lingerie top and bronze wedge platforms, only to realize this was utterly wrong (it was just that I really really felt like wearing all that! And I still have not worn those shoes!). I pulled out a black miniskirt and black stockings, pointy black stillettos, huge pink plastic earrings, and clipped my hair back so that it rose over my forehead. Blacked my eyes like a raccoon, blah blah blah, Ned’s jean jacket with rolled up sleeves, and — voila! I was Stockard Channing meets Desperately Seeking Susan (remember that movie??). Ned met the costume requirements by putting on a polo and flipping up the collar.

We asked the boys if they wanted to go, since kids were welcome. Nat did, so after a discussion with him about what he would wear:
“Nat, how about this new shirt [flowing beautiful blue polo]?”
“No new shirt.” [Why? Because of the tags all over it that I should have cut beforehand! Damn you, tags!]
“Nat, you have to change [out of the Special Olympics shirt] because this one is dirty.” [and smells like an Israeli bus]
So Nat pulls out another tee shirt and it is — Special Olympics! Sigh. But still — so cute, what does it matter? Teenage boys have — and shall forever insist on — their own idea of what to wear.

The party was excellent, despite all preliminary nervousness. The food was yummy – bouquets of chocolate-dipped fruit, lots of wine, cheese-filled something-or-others. Lots of people I had met before, so it was easy to mingle. My friend Michelle/Najmat performed, so Nat saw his first (real) bellydancer! She is my favorite bellydancer, I think, which is why I am now taking classes from her.

And the ’80’s dancing was — fun! I learned a line dance from a 12 twelve year old girl and I relearned the Macarena. Nat and I danced a lot — he did a lot of hopping, flapping and grinning, and I did bellydance in spikey heels (what a pair we are). Sometimes Ned and I danced and once, just for fun, we pretended we had just met. I highly recommend it, especially for couples who have been together a long, long time.