May I Have Your Autograph?

Recently a woman and I started chatting as our blue feet bubbled below us and our massage chairs moved up and down our spines. It's a little hard to visit with the vibrating thingy on, but we managed as we enjoyed our pedicures. She recognized me from the Phoenix, (that in itself is scary as I usually go to the nail salon pretty raggedy. That Phoenix picture makes me look all of my age which is not a good thing either...........but at least I had lipstick and mascara on in it!) She asked if I had ever seen Disney's High School Musical. I indicated I indeed had seen it, on recommendation of my 13 year old cousin and 12 year old niece. She asked me what I thought about it.
"Well, seems harmless enough with a good moral ending and no sex, violence or drugs. Sort of a Grease for the younger set."
"Did you think a young girl could be too obsessed with a story and a star?" It seems her daughter has plastered her room with posters, articles and every trinket, t-shirt and toy Disney can dream up. She watches the movie and listens to the sound track constantly. "I mean night and day", moaned her Mother. She writes Mrs. Zac Efron over and over and over. (For the uninformed, High School Musical actor who plays heart-throb Troy Sharpay)
"Well, has if affected her school work?"
"No."
"Has she cut herself off from friends and social interaction?"
"No. Several of them are planning a High School Musical party. The characters, the karaoke, the songs, the whole bit."
"Is she still the precious daughter you know and love?"
"Yes, with this little obsession thrown in."
As always, since Mel and I have been writing these weekly blogs, I preface ANYTHING with
"I am not a professional" but....
Think back on your younger teen years. Whether it was James Dean, Elvis, Ann Margaret, Paul or John, David Cassidy, Olivia Newton John, Farrah Fawcett, Rick Springstein or Kirk Cameron.....it was all pretty innocent. It seems to me that all that teen angst is much better directed at a unattainable ideal than another actual hormone driven tween ager.

I have my own story to tell. I was obsessed with Sonny and Cher in junior high school. Obsessed. My dear friend Nancy invited me to Dallas for a weekend with her parents. We were shopping at the downtown Neiman Marcus. The Men's Shoe Department was right at the bottom of the Up escalator. As we were stepping onto the first stair, I noticed a shaggy man with a leather vest trying on a pair of loafers. OH MY GOSH. I grabbed Nancy's elbow. That 's SONNY. Nancy, being totally unimpressed with the news, continued up the escalator to the granny dresses and Mary Quant mini-skirts. I reversed my ascent and leaned against a pillar, straining for snatches of conversation.

Just then, Sonny kind of hollered up to the mezzanine above, seeking input on his shoe selections. Be still my heart. A heavily banged and eyelined Cher popped up over the railing and gave her approval to his choices.

I forsook Sonny and skedaddled up the stairs to the mezzanine. This was the 1960's. No entourage. No posse. Just them. I, a 14 year old, began to give Cher clothing advice. If you have forgotten, in the 60's Cher never, (never) wore anything but bell bottoms. It was her signature, her talisman, her statement. I shared information of other belled outfits I had seen in other parts of the store. The sales lady was sent to various departments to bring the said items to us. (us). I particularly remember a white pique and pink gingham number, haltered and hip hugging. Cher bought that outfit on the advice of me, 14 year old stylist to the rock stars.

Nancy still loves to tell about that day. I would not leave Cher's side and Mrs. Leake sent word for me to just get back to the hotel by 5:00. That night, we met John Wayne coming up the escalator at the hotel. The Pittsburg Steelers were staying on our floor. And one other thing. A certain couple, also staying at our hotel, waved across the lobby at me and mouthed, "I Got you Babe" as they got on the elevator to head to their show.

All for Now. The former Mrs. Peter Blair Dennis Bernard Noone, signing off. If you know who this is, blog me back and we'll talk about his baby blues! (Hint, he was a guest artist on Idol this season)