I’ve thought about blogging lately. But mostly in a distant and remote way. Feeling the urge to post and reconnect, yet not mustering the will. Mustering instead other things, like melancholy and laziness. Will being something I reserve for Tuesdays when I have to coax myself to two classes and draft detailed discussion posts for a third course online.
But I have thought about it. So that counts, right?
December was for decompressing from my first semester back in school. Also for obsessing about the holidays, which came and went. Then it was 2012 and now it’s almost February and it all seems like a big haze of days and events, major and minor that it seems too daunting and pointless to get in writing, you know?
After being unplugged for a while, it gets easy to stay that way.
Then I got a note from Bex regarding a very old post about some photos I’d taken when I was 15. So I started looking through them and cringing and figured what better way to jump back into the internet’s waters than by humiliating myself just a tad.
Also, I wanted to help Bex a bit by showing her what NOT to do during a Quinceañera photo shoot. I’ve included some additional photos for your displeasure.
The repost:
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Yes, that’s me, observing an adolescent myself from the heavens and apparently having a good laugh about it.
It was March 1990. I’d just turned 15 years old. In our predominantly Cuban community, your “Quinces” or “Fifteens” were the big coming-of-age birthday. That was the year countless girls in my grade held huge, elaborate bashes, complete with a “court” of fourteen other couples performing choreographed dances that showcased the guest of honor – the Quinceañera.
These were catered, full bar events, usually held at a banquet hall where the dancing and drunken debauchery went well in to the wee hours.
My single mom could not afford such a luxurious spread on her meager factory wages, so I got the next best thing – a professional photo shoot in a pristine white gown and lavender cape. I’ve still got the album of about 125 photographs taken in both studio and outdoor settings. This one here was shot on my actual birthday, on a bright sunny Friday at the Vizcaya Gardens in South Miami.
There are so many things wrong with this photograph, it’s not even worth the effort to go in to a thorough analysis. My tall hair, my fake nails, the lace, the flowers, the parasol. The list of tacky is overwhelming. And the weird overlapping composition is a running theme, since I have several photos where there are two of me vying for face time on the same frame. There’s even one where I’m telling myself an amusing secret – probably that our photographer was taking hallucinogenics.
Me, as goddess of the Atlantic:
I won’t even go in to details about the ones taken against a multicolored laser beam background…
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I may have missed you the teeniest bit internet waters…and all the lovely sparkling fish that swim around in it.
I can hear Hall and Oates NOW. Bwahahaha!
I remember those trips to Vizcaya Garden and the photo shoots we would stumble upon. I’d tell my mom that girl looks too young to be a bride. My mom would just hush me and make me move on, not that I could, the models were blocking the fountain!
Oh, thank you so much for posting this! You made my day! These pictures reminded me of my senior picture where my hair looks exactly like yours, but mine was red. And this brought back memories of high school. Many of my classmates had quinceaneras, though probably not as elaborate as some, (mostly held at my friends’ houses in their basements, but wow, the dresses and the food were amazing!) and I got invited to a bunch of them. They were a blast!
We don’t get points off for laughing, right? I’m sorry, I thought it was your wedding picture at first, or some sort of Gone With the Wind lace reenactment.
Sorry. Okay, ummm, the sun was shining, that’s awesome right?
(Trust me we all have those pictures, we just don’t all share them
First thing I thought was; “OMG, she was a Rainbow Girl Too!” We wore big hooped skirts and big hair but no fake nails. Of course, that was only on special occasions. Most of the time we wore peasant dresses. Anything to look like a hippie. I think your mom was awesome for trying to give you as much of the “Quinces” experience as she could.
LOVE THESE! They are absolutely priceless. Thanks for the fun!