The Red-Headed Stranger. Also pictured: Willie Nelson |
The year was 1990. And yes, that’s Willie Nelson crouching
behind my right breast.
Jammin’ Jane (nee' Jane Trent) and Rockin’ Annie O (yours
truly) were both interning at a Country & Western radio station in Houston
called KIKK. For those NOT from around
those parts, KIKK was NOT supposed to be a not-so-subtle throwback/hint to a
certain Klan of folks who are partial to wearing robes and hoods around a campfire… but instead, it was short
for “Kicker,” which is what we Texans called the Cowboy-lovin’ folk at the time.
Sure, it’s shorthand for “Shitkicker,” but that is, in fact, what happens when
one spends a lot of time around barnyard animals. Said shit does indeed get
kicked. At least as far as I understand
it. Which is to say, not far at all. There’s a dearth of both barnyard and
barnyard animals in my life, although I’ve been trying to talk The Boy into
getting a goat because I think they are super-cute. I guess what I'm trying to say is don't be offended by the radio station call letters, for the love of God.
Anyhoo.
Jammin' Jame and I were unofficially known around the station as the” KIKK News Kittens”
and we weren’t yet liberated enough to understand that we shouldn’t find that
moniker insulting to our journalistic integrity. I’m not sure we even HAD journalistic integrity,
although we did both pass a mandatory Communication Ethics course at the University
of Houston. As I recall, the class included lectures I did my best to miss, a
book I skimmed perfunctorily and a couple of tests I stayed up all night
popping diet pills and drinking highly caffeinated hot tea cramming for. I seem
to recall hearing something from my parents about not “applying” myself. Harrumph.
On this night, Jane was supposed to cover the grand opening
of Willie Nelson’s brand-spankin’ new C&W bar in Northwest Houston. I’m
fairly astounded that I can’t remember the name of it… must’ve been the diet
pills and hot tea which led to this type of memory loss and a solid “C”
average. I also can’t remember if we knew that we were going to meet Willie Nelson
or not… what I CAN remember is thinking that my outfit was hot. H-O-T HOT, people.
For the uninitiated, I am wearing a leopard-print mock
turtleneck paired with a black Lycra mini-skirt jumper thingie. What you CAN’T
see is that in addition to drawing massive attention to my ridiculous breasts,
this little beauty also had a peplum that virtually had an arrow pointing to
the world’s most unfortunate hips—“Hey, when you’re finished gawking at the headlights, check out the
mudflaps on this rig, Bubba!” I
paired all of this with slightly shiny jet black pantyhose and black,
pointy-toed flats. If I recall correctly, the clothing was from Contempo
Casuals and the shoes were from Mervyn’s. I don’t think either of those clothing chains
exist anymore and I think we can all agree that it’s for the best. It might have been this outfit that did them both in.
I don’t think we can go much further without discussing my
hair, because really? I’m counting about 5 inches of air there on the top of my
head and I can assure you it was intentional. If one were to go looking for my journalistic integrity, I'd suggest my hair would be a good place to start because God only knows what could be hidden up there. I think I was just attempting to
be a normal-heighted person. Or I lost a bet. Or humidity. Or perhaps my mirror
was broken that day. Regardless, whoever styled my hair in 1990 should be taken out to the
woodshed and given a stern talking-to.
You might also notice that I am standing on the wrong side
of Willie (that sentence made me giggle). This is because I had not yet learned
that I am only to be photographed either head-on or from the right side—and never,
NEVER candidly. The Boy finds it amusing, but honestly just take one look at
the jowls I have in this photo and tell me I’m wrong to demand to be photographed
only from certain angles. You can’t do it because JOWLS. I once caught sight of my backside in
one of your precious “candid” photos and I’m pretty sure that’s when I started
seeing a therapist.
The lesson here is that despite my clear 1990 reliance on
the “more is more” approach to styling, less really is more. And leopard print
has never been the new black. And perhaps jeans and boots would have been more
appropriate for the occasion, although clearly a hat was out of the question.
And photos like this FREAK ME OUT each time I look in my
full-length mirror and kind of dig on my outfit and hair. Because YES, this
look happened, and I'll be damned if I didn't think I looked GOOOOOOD.
Willie Nelson is one of the most courageous progressives I ever met during my Texas days. He and Charlie Pride were not only friendly, but extremely supportive when I was an extremely unique personality at KIKK. I remember when you and Jane went out to cover that opening. You were a Memorial girl from a Memorial family, and in the scheme of Houston social life, a type that was essential to keeping one huge small town citified.
ReplyDeleteTexas at the time was going through changes and country could never have become really mainstream without the changes that occurred there: http://blogs.houstonpress.com/rocks/2011/01/willie_nelson_charley_pride.php
I love animal prints lol
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