A Maniac Flashes Back

Three businesses proliferate in Bethlehem: tattoo shops, pizza places, and beauty salons. From the looks of it, vape joints will soon join their ranks and litter local street corners and strip malls. Salons, though, dominate the landscape. It's a case of quantity trumping quality.

I'm loyal, sometimes to a fault, so when I find a stylist that can maneuver my cowlicks, inconsistent curls, and pension for change- I stick with her. It took a while, but I finally found my temple of beauty. Beautique is my salon of choice, but whenever I go, I feel more like I'm visiting a group of girlfriends.

The small shop swells with heat and laughter-- there's a real sense of community and camaraderie, a refreshing change of pace from austere or cosmopolitan alternatives. It doesn't hurt that two of the women are sisters and the rest are life long friends. Recently, they've started carrying accessories from a local artist and client. The menagerie of shiny baubles never fails to lure me like a barracuda. Hunting through the sparkling wares, I found a relic.

"Are those leg warmers?!" Leg warmers! Tubular sweaters for chilly shins. The small black bunches were slouched over cardboard booties, accented with shimmering hearts. I was swept away in a current of nostalgia with no life jacket, dangerously close to an impulse purchase that was sure to collect dust. My mind was swimming with 80s splendor.

One look at Jennifer Beals, circa 1983, and there was no denying the power of legwarmers. Flashdance was everything. At the age of 8, I wanted to live my life in a black leotard and matching leg warmers.

photo credit: chud.com

What could possibly be cooler than a beautiful welder by day, exotic dancer by night wowing elitist dance snobs with her jaw dropping Pittsburgh Conservatory of Dance and Repertory audition, a blend of modern dance, ballet, and breakdancing. Alex Owens (Jennifer Beals) was independent, tough, talented, sexy, and vulnerable. Lord, the woman taught me to take off my bra without removing my shirt. She was magic! My sweatshirt necklines never stood a chance.

photo credit: lyriquediscorde.com

I became a maniac on the grassy field, apartment adjacent, blaring Irene Cara from my from my taperecorder, twirling in the crisp light, leaping through the air, finally landing on the high voltage green machine. Danger be damned.

photo credit: cracked.com

Once on my electric stage, I'd stamp my feet, point at imaginary judges, and sing, "I can have it all/ Now I'm dancing for my life..." Fuchsia legwarmers over my white double laced LA Gears were an apt substitute for Alex's ensemble in the cold autumn months. I was the dancing queen of my little world.

photo credit: tinypic.com

Standing lost in thought at Beautique's register, I didn't realize I had picked up the bedazzled black legwarmers. I guess I was clutching the free-me. Fearless me- dancing on the green machine me. I'm still here, though, dancing through my life. I just decided to leave the black legwarmers in the 80s... where they belong.