I got a new phone yesterday. It has a new (to me) feature where I can make myself a talking shark. It’s cool, but it’s also embarrassing how I instantly turned 12 years old upon playing with it. And maybe that’s why I started to think about Margaret Thatcher and Duran Duran.
I was a lucky middle-schooler. I was spoiled and allowed to be whatever weird version of myself the changing moods of maturation could throw my way. Margaret Thatcher was my go-to example of gal empowerment.
She was the first female prime minister of the UK. That was about all I knew of her. That and she had some cool one liners that came about back in the day before you could steal one-liners off ye olde internet. “Standing in the middle of the road is dangerous, you get knocked down by traffic from both sides.” Not sure my interpretation of the quote was accurate, but middle school me thought it to mean the importance of taking a side. Something akin to “right, wrong, or indifferent; just do something.” This shit be still pure gold.
But how did a C’wd kid in the 80’s get to be Thatcher fan? Duran Duran. Obviously.
To say I was obsessed with that band would be an understatement. My walls were plastered with their posters; the fancy ones that came from wherever posters were sold, and ones that were out of magazines that I would beg to have purchased for me from the old Holiday Market in Cottonwood; Tiger Beat, and maybe something called Bop.
I HAD to have them. Not only did they have posters, sometimes they had song lyrics. This was critical because, again pre-internet. If you wanted to know every word to Hungry Like the Wolf, you had to seek it out. The magazines also had ads for exclusive European LP records. I was never fancy enough to procure one, but they were a big enough deal that I remember the kids who did. I had every button that the mall sold of the band. They made a scarf, I owned it. Lead singer wore a fedora in a video; I bought a fedora. Etc.
I’m not sure what the term for a group of middle school girls is, a giggle instead of a gaggle maybe; but I was in one. There were terms negotiated for which girl could like which Duran Duran guy. It was serious business; who knows the hurt Shondell would’ve felt if I’d have put up a poster of John Taylor instead of my appointed Simon Le Bon? Shondell and I were in this together, I couldn’t do that to her. I just couldn’t.
I mean without her, neither of us would have the crown jewel of our collection; the VHS tape of their music videos. Independently, we couldn’t afford it. So we pooled our money and rode our bikes down to Bowman Video. This was both a) when Bowman Video existed and b) when it was actually still on Bowman Road. Pat the owner had to flatten wrinkled ones and count our coins to make sure she had what she needed before she committed to work that was ordering a VHS in day. Shondell and I held discussion about how to share the resource; she got the original tape, I got the box. Her dad “knew a guy” who was able to connect 2 VCRs so that a bootleg copy could be made for me.
I’m sure everybody knows all things Duran, but just in case you don’t; they’re from England. So there it is. Because I was pretty sure I’d be living in England as an adult, I followed UK politics more than a Tehama County kid ever needed to and accidentally found myself a powerful dame to admire. England never got me as a resident. But; maybe, just maybe, there’s some good that comes from poor music choices after all.
Thanks for reading
Bifocals and Barbells 