So the other day at Oliver’s 3rd birthday party, the entertainers played One Direction (don’t ask me the song please, it’s an impossible request. If it’s not JayZ or Nicki Minaj, I’m struggling). In fact, at the time, as the children danced away, one of the Mums remarked that her daughter adores Harry and I actually asked her who at the party was called Harry. I know.
I REALLY need to get with the programme. I’m a total R ‘n’ B girl you see but I do hazily remember those boys did well on Xfactor and have recently cracked America (see I do read Heat magazine at the hairdressers)…Oh and that Harry dated Caroline Flack. Those bands just seem so young to me. At 32, I can’t really relate (even if Flack could)…
It’s actually my younger cousin’s birthday soon and as she’s HUGELY obsessed with the OD boys, I think I’m going to buy One Direction tickets for her from Stubhub and pretend I’m a teenager again. Why not, I say?
All this got me thinking about who I adored at her age. I loved a bit of the Backstreet Boys, Take That and of course the Spice Girls (my girl crush was VB, primarily because we both had dark hair-fickle much?) and now they’re all reforming so we can reminisce and make like we’re 15 again. 15 without the bad hair and brown lipliner over concealer (why was that look in, I ask you-WHY?).
I actually cried watching the Spice Girl’s documentary Viva Forever over Christmas as I reflected on old times while singing along to Wannabee. Those girls were literally the soundtrack to my youth, getting me through make up’s, break up’s, college years then Uni…and what’s scary is, it really feels like yesterday. Two kids later, I’m still that girl, somewhere (just with better make up).
So soon I’ll be heading to watch OD (if I don’t flake out and wash my hair or something). Who knows, maybe it will be fun. I mean a night of feeling young, free of responsibility, lusting after young boys in skinny jeans is surely good for the soul. Caroline Flack knows I’m right. Wish me luck.
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