My niece was planning her birthday party and wanted it just a tad different from others she had attended. I mentioned she should have a “Come As You Are” party. The confused look on her face said it all — it showed my age.
“Come As You Are” parties were fun. It would happen in the morning or afternoon when you least expected it. A quick telephone call and the person asked you to the party – right then — just as you were. It was too late to change clothes.
We would listen to records, dance, and eat munchies – somehow we always ended up calling boys on the telephone.
One afternoon I was wearing a white shirt that had long since been discarded by my older sister, white levis that were deeply cuffed, complete with tomato stains on the left knee. But any embarrassment at the party left when my friend Dianna showed up with her hair wrapped in a towel and wearing a pair of her brothers’ basketball shorts.
It was always fun to see what Jill would be wearing. She was always fussy about looking her best at school. She always looked perfect. Some how she never came to a single party with odd-looking clothes. One party she did arrive with her hair in hair rollers. I wish I had taken a picture.
I was still reminiscing about the parties I had attended when I looked at my niece. She asked with a rocking mocking supercilious air, “Why would I want a “Come As You Are’ party?”
I still wish I had taken a few photographs.