There was a time in my life when I lived to dance. In the mid-eighties after an eight-hour stint at a Saturday job I loathed, I'd summon the energy to throw on the latest fashion from C&A and head off to a disco. This was a typical look...
- Black Lycra dress.
- Black suede heels.
- Roller-ball lip gloss (possibly spearmint flavour).
- Glitter gel on my cheeks and sometimes in my hair too.
- Purple eyeshadow.
School discos, parties, night clubs... I was there. And as soon as everyone was up on the dance floor I'd be swept up in the raw energy and dancing without a care in the world. In Sixth Form most students booked 18th parties at a local wine bar called Nutz - we'd be there most weeks, leaving our troubles behind and making the most of our freedom. Is there anything quite like a disco with school friends you've known forever - all singing and dancing to a song that's been on repeat in the common room all week?
On the dance floor we'd sing along to the latest songs we were fixated on. And it might have been a pretty eclectic playlist - U2, The Cure, Dead or Alive, Prince and Tin Tin... but these songs defined our generation and our collective passion for music made for brilliant nights out. I loved Kiss Me by Tin Tin so much - I spent my hard-earned wages buying the 12-inch single. I think I still have it somewhere...
And at the end of the night, there was always the possibility you'd be asked to dance by the boy who'd been looking at you across the crowded dance floor all evening. I was usually too engrossed in dancing to notice. Is there anything more lovely than dancing in the arms of someone you have a bit of a thing for when you realised he felt the same way? Aren't those kisses simply hypnotic when you're a teen?
Little did I know that in 1999 I'd be celebrating New Year's Eve with twin daughters in tow and it was literally a case of, '2000 zero zero party over, oops, out of time,' as by this time all my friends were married and even the wedding invites had dried up.
Now forty-something I don't have the opportunity to dance any more. The closest I get is extracting my iPod from the drawer in the kitchen and dancing all over the house with the Dyson. Tragic - I know. But I am still addicted to the latest chart music - much to my daughters' irritation.
Why should dancing be something only my daughters get to do? My youngest, Sophia offered to take me clubbing recently - I don't know who'd have been more horrified if I'd accepted? Maybe we need to invent a club where all forty-somethings can go and be themselves without feeling like the oldest person in the room?
I'd love to hear your favourite memories about the awesomeness that was the school disco back in the day...
This will be the last post for a while as I'm heading off to Cornwall for a break. Back soon - be good while I'm gone people x
Lyrics: 1999 by Prince
Copyright©2014 Izzie Anderton