Fuggy Doolee

And . . . . we're back.  In this post, I will feature classic family photos from the 1970s.  Rather than simply recount my limited memory of the times and places these were taken, I thought I'd give them commentary in the style of the Go Fug Yourself blog (www.gofugyourself.com), which, as those of you who read it regularly know, devotes its posts to devilishly criticizing the fashion foibles of the famous.  So, if you are fan of the Fug site, you will undoubtedly get a kick out of this, and if you're not, you'll think I am unbelievable bitchy, disrespectful of my elders and downright rude.  So be it. 

I'll be a good sport and start with myself:

I certainly can't start with Mike, because with those cheeks, he really can't go wrong.  I, on the other hand, well - let's start with my shoes.  I realize that this was taken in the 1970s, but tassels?  I abhor tassels -  how could this be?  Then, there's the vest/shirt combo:

What are we going for here - some sort of urban cowboy/skier motif?  How apropos for an eight year old girl. 

OK.  Now we'll try with some of you.  Here are a few scenes from a groovin' party at Nancy's Bedford Square apartment:

First, we have Granny Doolee modeling what I will confirm in some later photos must have been a genuine 1970s fashion trend:  the v-neck tunic over a contrasting  turtleneck.  Aside from the cigarette - which I shockingly found to be the accessory of choice in almost every picture - Sheila actually looks rather good.  I like that shirt - such a delicate and classy pattern, particularly for the 1970s.  But then, we get the whole story:

I know, Mike, I'd be shocked, too, if my mom wore her red slipper booties out in public.  Apparently, I found the sight so horrifying, I pulled all of my hair into a pony tail on that side of my head to block the view. 

Now, as I was saying about the whole tunic/turtleneck layered look, as seen here modeled by my dad:

I only wish he were holding the half-filled stem-glass of Courvasier in one hand and caressing the cherub/plant holder with the other.

Next, we have my mom modeling the equally-festive women's version:

 

Ironically, I found among this stack of pictures a post-it note in my mom's own hand writing that reads, "What's this side-part dragged-across bang look?"  Indeed!  I wish I could see the shoes, though, because they look almost like something I would want to wear today.  Again - I can't even comment on the cigarette, yet I'm mesmerized by the toothy Polyanna-on-roofies (rufies?) smile. . . Here we see it again:

Anyone else see a healthy Nicole Richie here?  I  have to wonder about the wisdom of  wearing a sunset tableau across your chest, however.  Also loving the stylish  70s surroundings - the brick wall, the medieval fire place accessories, the over sized glasses on Granny's toy poodle, Sampson.  Wait - that's not Sampson - its a young Margie!  My, how we all abused the perm rods in those days.  Nice shirt. 

And finally, a photo from perhaps a few years prior, which makes me ask,

Did they sell men's clothes where he bought that shirt?  And the only occasion for which I could think it ever appropriate to so prominently display the hairy whiteness of these inner thighs would be if Dad were working as a test-model for NADS.