The Breakfast Club

Long live the 80’s. I seriously wish I could live my twenties in the 80’s. Times when being rebellious was considered a must and if you wanted to get to know someone you had to man up and talk to the person not Facebook stalk them or Whats App them. The hair was big and the lips were pink. It was the prime time for the music and film industry. Sarah Jessica Parker was not a confused forty year old party girl, but dancing in ‘Footloose’. Molly Ringwald was playing in ‘Pretty In Pink’ and people knew Otis Redding for his music and not because of Kanye West. You couldn’t drunk message people online and you didn’t over analyze when a certain someone likes your status or profile picture. Big gestures were in order. You had hip hop groups like Run–D.M.C. instead of One Direction. People were more spontaneous. High waste jeans were appropriate attire and boys didn’t wear their trousers on their knees. Gangsters were real gangster and not unemployed nobodies. Everybody could dance. There would actually be proper dances with live bands and not dry humping in a club with shit music. People got fake IDs so they could vote. Male characters like Andrew ‘Andy’ Clark would still be believable. Kevin Bacon was still hot. Maybe I’m romanticizing the 80’s, but I can’t help it. The Breakfast Club. 

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