There were no snarky celebrity fashion blogs, no Paris Hilton, no Real Housewives. We looked to MTV for beauty & fashion inspiration — just as nature intended.
“Brazilian” was a nationality, not a hair-removal technique. Nobody knew what a bikini wax was. We left that shit alone.
We had no hair products to speak of. Okay, Dippity-D0 in the 10-pound jar might have existed… but most of us didn’t know how to use it. It was reserved for old ladies with curlers and punk-wannabes with Mohawks.
There were only four brands of shampoo. Breck, Prell, Clairol, and a constantly-revolving fourth (Agree, Gee your Hair Smells Terriffic, etc.) Oh yeah, and, Head and Shoulders. Ok, five. There were five brands of shampoo.
You couldn’t buy obscure beauty products or embarrassing personal items online. If you needed something, by God, you walked your ass to the store and bought it. (4 miles. In the snow. Uphill both ways).
There was no Sephora.
There was no Sephora. (Just letting that one sink in).
Nobody had ever heard the term “metrosexual.” Aside from a few androgynous punk rockers, straight men were rumpled, scruffy and clueless, just the way we liked them.
We wore nude pantyhose with open-toed shoes.
Thongs did not exist. We wore our pantylines with pride.
There were no Spanx. Old ladies had girdles; young ladies had control top pantyhose.
You could walk out of the house looking like crap. You didn’t have to worry that one of your “friends” would capture the moment on a cell phone, posting your photo on Facebook or your video on YouTube.
There was no self-tanner; you tanned outside or burned to a crisp trying.
No shorts were too short; no hair was too high.
Noxema was considered high-end skincare.
There was no Victoria’s Secret. Lingerie came from J.C. Penney’s. And it was called “underwear.”
If your BFF was committing an embarrassing fashion faux pas — lettuce between teeth, toilet paper under shoe — you couldn’t alert her from across the classroom via text message.
And there wasn’t even a war on! How did we survive??????