Read Online My Formerly Hot Life by Stephanie Dolgoff - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephanie Dolgoff
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called upon for my blinding insights on a regular basis, but I felt in-the-mix enough that if asked, I could add to the dialogue. Now I am simply off the radar of relevance.
But now that I’m over the shock of being seen as irrelevant by the nebulous “them,” it’s no big deal. Most of the time, many younger people, especially the hip ones, seem tome overly conscious that they’re being talked about, which strikes me as more energy than I want to devote to such things. The less I think about what “they” think of me, the more time I have to think about what will make me and those who matter to me happy. Being a Formerly might look a teensy bit boring, if the observer applies only a cursory glance, the same kind of cursory glance that determines that a woman is no longer hot if she’s older. But from where I sit, there’s nothing boring about being a Formerly. And “they” won’t know that until they get to be one themselves.
All this being said, I’m not completely hopeless when it comes to current music. If a song is a national phenomenon or gets the Christian right all worried that our children are being recruited as lesbians, it’ll penetrate my distracted, disorganized consciousness. Still, by and large, the only things on the new music stations that sound familiar to me are the snippets of “old school” tunes that are sampled within the new releases. I’ll hear a Michael Jackson riff or the back-beat from a Grandmaster Flash song and for a second my heart leaps—
I actually know that one! Check me out!
Then the singer’s unfamiliar voice returns, and I see it was just a tease. Later, when the 20-year-old rapper appears on
Live! with Regis and Kelly
(what he’s doing on that show I have no idea, but then again, I’m watching it, and I have no idea why) I’ll find out that the stanza I knew was included because it was by his mom’s favorite artist.
Television is a bit easier to stay up on than music andmovies, especially because I’m often too pooped to go out in the evenings, and the advent of DVR technology means I never have to miss an episode of
The Office
or
Mad Men
. As a Formerly, I’m included in that pocket of pop culture—even targeted, because I presumably have money to spend on BMWs and FedEx and the other stuff that’s advertised during the breaks. (Hey! Is that Queen and David Bowie singing “Under Pressure” on that Propel water commercial? Why, I know that song! And coincidentally, I’m suddenly parched. …)
My friend Josie, who has been in bands since she could bang two pots together, takes it especially hard when one of her counterculture icons starts shilling for corporate America. Swiffer tends to score the best of old-school pop, but the list is endless. To name just a few, you can hear Iggy Pop for Royal Caribbean Cruise Lines, Digable Planets for Tide and Squeeze for Dentyne gum. I get why Josie finds it disheartening, but we’ve all done things we never thought we’d do (mini-van with built-in DVD player, anyone?). I don’t think you can blame an aging rocker for wanting to cash in on a past hit. People have to eat, especially Iggy Pop.
What gets
me
is that Madison Avenue seems to think we Formerlies are soooo easy—and evidently we are! It galls me that I am, in fact, more likely to be favorably disposed toward a product if I associate it with a cool tune from an era when I was cooler than I am now. It’s like crying at an obvious tearjerker—you feel manipulated and a little idiotic, while at the same time validated, if in a backhandedway.
I know, let’s get these ladies to associate our vile, smelly depilatory with a time in their lives when they weren’t working 55 hours a week and then coming home to follow a child and a dog around with a sponge before collapsing in bed with still-hairy legs. If the song speaks to them, they’ll unthinkingly grab it as they shop in their usual harried fugue state
. The songs in these ads still speak to me. It’s
But now that I’m over the shock of being seen as irrelevant by the nebulous “them,” it’s no big deal. Most of the time, many younger people, especially the hip ones, seem tome overly conscious that they’re being talked about, which strikes me as more energy than I want to devote to such things. The less I think about what “they” think of me, the more time I have to think about what will make me and those who matter to me happy. Being a Formerly might look a teensy bit boring, if the observer applies only a cursory glance, the same kind of cursory glance that determines that a woman is no longer hot if she’s older. But from where I sit, there’s nothing boring about being a Formerly. And “they” won’t know that until they get to be one themselves.
All this being said, I’m not completely hopeless when it comes to current music. If a song is a national phenomenon or gets the Christian right all worried that our children are being recruited as lesbians, it’ll penetrate my distracted, disorganized consciousness. Still, by and large, the only things on the new music stations that sound familiar to me are the snippets of “old school” tunes that are sampled within the new releases. I’ll hear a Michael Jackson riff or the back-beat from a Grandmaster Flash song and for a second my heart leaps—
I actually know that one! Check me out!
Then the singer’s unfamiliar voice returns, and I see it was just a tease. Later, when the 20-year-old rapper appears on
Live! with Regis and Kelly
(what he’s doing on that show I have no idea, but then again, I’m watching it, and I have no idea why) I’ll find out that the stanza I knew was included because it was by his mom’s favorite artist.
Television is a bit easier to stay up on than music andmovies, especially because I’m often too pooped to go out in the evenings, and the advent of DVR technology means I never have to miss an episode of
The Office
or
Mad Men
. As a Formerly, I’m included in that pocket of pop culture—even targeted, because I presumably have money to spend on BMWs and FedEx and the other stuff that’s advertised during the breaks. (Hey! Is that Queen and David Bowie singing “Under Pressure” on that Propel water commercial? Why, I know that song! And coincidentally, I’m suddenly parched. …)
My friend Josie, who has been in bands since she could bang two pots together, takes it especially hard when one of her counterculture icons starts shilling for corporate America. Swiffer tends to score the best of old-school pop, but the list is endless. To name just a few, you can hear Iggy Pop for Royal Caribbean Cruise Lines, Digable Planets for Tide and Squeeze for Dentyne gum. I get why Josie finds it disheartening, but we’ve all done things we never thought we’d do (mini-van with built-in DVD player, anyone?). I don’t think you can blame an aging rocker for wanting to cash in on a past hit. People have to eat, especially Iggy Pop.
What gets
me
is that Madison Avenue seems to think we Formerlies are soooo easy—and evidently we are! It galls me that I am, in fact, more likely to be favorably disposed toward a product if I associate it with a cool tune from an era when I was cooler than I am now. It’s like crying at an obvious tearjerker—you feel manipulated and a little idiotic, while at the same time validated, if in a backhandedway.
I know, let’s get these ladies to associate our vile, smelly depilatory with a time in their lives when they weren’t working 55 hours a week and then coming home to follow a child and a dog around with a sponge before collapsing in bed with still-hairy legs. If the song speaks to them, they’ll unthinkingly grab it as they shop in their usual harried fugue state
. The songs in these ads still speak to me. It’s
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