Nips, Zips and Snaps: 2

Who didn’t love 5-7-9 when they were a smidgen of a fashionista, and well, wearing a junior’s size 5, 7 and 9?! I remember preparing for high school at the naive age of 13, I had skipped seventh grade. I worked and saved all summer and splurged at Foxmoor, 5-7-9, and other gems at the Westminster Mall, yes the one with the balloon and fountains. Man I miss that mall… I’m pretty sure, looking back now, that Foxmoor was a store for much more mature gals; a red pleather skirt and a pair of fluorescent spandex pants with bell bottoms, in a pattern of oranges, limes and lemons that would make Miss Chiquita Banana’s mouth water, are hardly “normal” clothing pieces for a teen. I wasn’t an average kid though, and I rocked all of it! I used to tear pages out of Seventeen Magazine and I remember sketching out what outfits I’d wear the coming fall.
So the first day of ninth grade at Denver School of the Arts I pulled out a blue suede dress, with a collar and a tie neckline, a 5-7-9 number. At the time, 1996, don’t age me, DSA did not have it’s own building so my core classes were held at the five points school, Manual, and my art classes were at Cole Middle School. Needless to say, it was a neighborhood rich with culture. Not that I didn’t grow up around diversity, having grown up in Commerce City Colorado, experiences and immersion with other races and ethnicity were normal, but Manual was still a new experience, it was High School. I remember that the entire day went really smoothly overall, until I had to turn in my paperwork and Epi-pen for bee sting allergies to the health office at the end of the day.
I had to go down by the gymnasium, where all the athletes and jocks hung out. I had my manila file in hand, looking for the health office. I think the door was locked, and as I walked back down the hall to leave after my first official day of high school I heard loud calling. “Pull it down! Pull it down!” I didn’t want to turn around. I didn’t want to acknowledge these “kids” who could potentially taint my pristine youth. I kept walking, with a quicker pace. I wanted to get out to the parking lot, to my parents who took me to and from school everyday. But they kept calling out, “PULLLL IT DOWNNNNN!” I could hear a female’s voice now, and the laughing increased. I turned around and gave a look of question. They pointed to my backpack, my forest green Kipling, monkey key chain and all, another piece I had saved for. I looked down and my dress had got caught underneath the backpack! I remember the embarrassment I felt still today. I quickly pulled down my skirt and ran out of there like a bat out o’ hell! Oddly, after this I felt more connected to my fellow student body. Nothing like flashing your silky pink and white briefs to a bunch of high school athletes to break the ice on a first day! And yes, I remember my underpinnings from that day too.


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