This is where I'd like to go asap:
129 N Genesee StWaukegan, IL 60085
I last went to this store probably over 15 years ago, and can hardly believe that it's still open. My ex and I used to hang out there occasionally, when they had a coffee bar (do they still? No clue.) and corny open mics that would make me shudder (speaking of cool open mics, check this out: http://www.jsonline.com/story/index.aspx?id=584844 I sure wish I could go. I have notebooks full of teen angst to share, and high school newspaper articles as well. I was very prolific in the "angst" dept in my day, and even still have my own as an adult. Some habits die hard...)
These folks had the most AMAZING vintage clothing, for which I have an incredible itch. Not that I want to purchase any, mind you-- ownership implies responsibility I simply do not wish to undertake-- but just looking at it, hanging on a hanger amidst others like it, makes me melt. I would even PAY for the opportunity to browse, hands on, thru racks of vintage clothing: dresses, hats, gloves, cashmere sweaters, nightgowns-- yellowing acetate brassieres... I love it all, with an odd, indescribable longing. I even love the musty smell of old clothing, the more prim the better. My daughter shares my strange obsession, and I love her deeply for it. Plus, she currently has the perfect Audrey Hepburn physique, and everything vintage fits her as if God himself intended it.
I remember going with my ex-- and what was it about the place? The smoke, the ratty tatty couches from my grandmother's era? The exotic coffee drinks pre Starbucks, that you coldn't find anyplace else? Or was it the romantic clinging to the last vestiges of my pre-children existence, which I dove into so headlong I never came back up for breath?
I think of how I dressed back then, and it makes me smile. I remember having an elaborate headdress (yes, headdress. You can snicker, but it was actually kind of pretty. And why the hell not? Now I have NO hair... not exactly what I'd call an improvement) made up of braids, silk scarves, a crocheted snood (don't ask)-- all twisted and knotted. I would recreate it, if I still had a creative bone left in my body. And some hair.
I miss not being able to express myself thru my appearance, even though I know it is simplistic and not terribly mature.
I miss not being so caught up in the worry of consequences.
I miss not worrying about what other's think, even tho I know it is a necessary part of "participating"-- even tho I know it isn't very much fun.
I miss thinking that life can be fun.
I guess I miss being a kid. Boo.
I suppose, in the grand scheme of life, we experiment as children as our world is expanding exponentially, until the consequences of our choices catch up with us, and mature us into adults. It's bound to happen to us all...
It just isn't too much fun-- you know, with Pandora being out of the box and all.
Anyhoo: anyone up for a road trip? I always am.