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Getting Back to New
Can you imagine yourself 10 years ago; rocking your tight jeans and belly button tops, partying your days away with no responsibilities and slugging down shots as if you were drinking Oros? Do you even remember what it felt like to be young and careless?
Well, somewhere between getting married, having kids, getting divorced and starting a new job, I forgot what it felt like to dress extremely inappropriately, to sway my body to the deep sound of the latest hits, and to stay awake in order to watch the sunrise with a stranger I have never met. Somewhere between being young and acting mature, I accepted a mundane drink at a pub with my married friends as an adventurous night out, and watching the rugby on a Saturday night as the highlight of my weekend.
Don’t get me wrong. Some things change when you get older. Your life becomes built for comfort and convenience and you get settled in a way that helps you conform to society’s expectations. You are no longer a young teenager, and your tight jeans should be replaced with black slacks for work. That’s how it works.
Well, after realising the ridiculousness of going to bed at 7pm on New Year’s eve, I decided that I needed to get my not-so-innocent self out of the closet, even if was just for one night. I phoned a recently-single friend of mine, and somehow convinced her to join my crazy adventure. But before we “got our groove on”, we had to get the right gear. Since Soviet has always (young or old) been one of my favourite brands, we decided to clad our derrieres in some very trendy Soviet apparel.
However, this is easier said than done, especially when you are used to very comfortable, loose tee’s and tracksuit pants…
Luckily for us, Soviet has very on-trend fashion advisors in store. Wearing Soviet apparel from head to toe, and looking like he stepped out of GQ magazine, Jamie attended to our uninformed needs in the friendliest way possible. By the time we walked out the store, I was armed with 2 pairs of impossibly tight jeans, 3 very flattering, blingy tops and a pair of high heels that made my short legs look like they were never-ending. In addition to this, Jamie also kindly advised me to straighten my hair and to have a fringe cut - for extra umph. And he gave us a few hints on which venues to visit. I could hardly contain myself!
After having a mani-pedi (a term I believe refers to experiencing heaven), having our hair done and blasting the radio on full volume, we made our way home to get dressed. Before even hitting the clubs, I already felt like a brand new 20 year old - perhaps with a few life-bumps, but brand new nonetheless. “Soviet Sexy”, as Jamie liked to call it.
After eyeing the latest Cosmo magazine for stylish make-up tips and techniques, I finished my brand new look. But one look in the mirror made me realise this important fact: I wasn’t brand new. Thanks to Soviet, Jamie and Cosmo, my 20 year old self had resurfaced. I stood staring at myself for 20 minutes. How could I have ignored this beautiful young spirit for so long? I was proud and ready to be young again.
And so, off we went to the club: confident and dressed to impress.
The feeling didn’t last too long: while I felt confident about my look, my younger me went off to the bar to get a drink, while the older me watched the young teenagers flocking inside. I was surrounded by gravity-defying hair do’s, gorgeously toned bodies, flawless make-up and the energy level only teens can display when the music pumps and the drinks are flowing. The whole situation took me by surprise, and I could feel my age catching up with me.
After much inner convincing, I decided that tonight was my night, and I would make the most of it. Besides, I looked gorgeous. How could I waste the perfect outfit?!
Once inside, the music flooded my brain, and before I knew it, I was dancing to the beat of a different drum. I felt the rhythm going through me, like new blood filling my veins, and the energy filled my soul. I moved, I stumbled, I rocked and I didn’t care once. In fact, a few young gentlemen actually attempted to talk to me - not that I could hear them over the thumping sound of the bass.
At 4am, the time I usually wake up to go to gym, my friend and I finally went home, grabbed a blanket and a glass of wine (a bit more adult-inspired than the vodka and Red Bull we were consuming at the club - don’t worry, we took a cab) and watched the sunrise. In the blissful quiet of the dawning of day, I finally found peace in knowing that my youth hadn’t died. It was sitting there, with me, dressed in Soviet and contentment, ready to come out whenever I felt the monotony of life threatening my existence.
Now I can go back to drinks at the pub and Saturday night rugby, knowing that at any point I can don my skin-tight jeans and skyscraper heels and experience a life I have already lived. It is time for the younger generation to experience the joy of being young. However, I will concede to a few things: I will be shopping at Soviet a lot more (what’s the harm in looking hot, right?) and I will be frequenting the salon for mani-pedi’s at least once a month.
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