Take a walk with me, dear reader, down memory lane. When I was a young and innocent gayling, I would frequently find myself over at my neighbor and best friend Dani’s house for some ridiculous shenanigans or other. Together with our other neighbor Liz, we wrote short plays, built a club house, founded the Animal Savers Club, played steam roller in the front yard, attempted cartwheels, had underwater adventures in our pools, rocked out Halloween parties and made home movies…we knew how to live. Occasionally we would break out one childhood board game or other. Operation. Mousetrap (if only to set off the intricate trap and put it away). Loopin’ Louie. Once or twice there was even a game most remember but refuse to admit to remembering: Pretty Pretty Princess.
If you have even once played this game, you will certainly remember it for the rest of your life. You flick the spinner and move your colored pieces around the board hoping beyond hope to land on your color’s jewelry pieces. Once you’ve collected your ring, earrings, bracelet and necklace, you’re all set to wear the crown and claim the title of queen bitch for the following minutes. Riveting stuff, I know.
There was, however, one piece to be avoided at all costs: the infamous black ring! If you were unfortunate enough to hold the black ring, you would find yourself held back from ascension to the throne. A barrier of invisible but entirely tangible dark energy would physically prevent you from picking up the crown. That might be a stretch, but the rules of the game say you were shit out of luck until someone else got stuck with the thing. I suppose it was set up that way because the black ring, the only technically colorless item on the board, was intended to come across as undesirable. Black is ugly when compared to pink, green, purple and blue, right? Little girls and fledgling gays are not supposed to want to wear it. But there’s just one teensy problem with the whole deal. I always wanted to wear the damn black ring, and I know I’m not the only one.
Come on, admit it, you wanted it too. Compared to the other pastel stupid colors, the black ring was edgy. Dangerous. It made you feel mysterious and powerful. It truly was a one ring to rule them all kind of deal to me. Accompanying the ring was a feeling of usurping authority. Fuck you rule book. Piss off society! I’m going to wear black and make it a statement.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how a new generation of Goths came to be. At the very least, I think it’s a theory work investigating further.
As a side note, this post is inspiring me to start a new blog series project. I feel my interest in Pretty Pretty Princess as a child was only one of many early indications preceding my impending closet exodus. Therefore, I propose a string of upcoming blogs to be tentatively known as ‘Early Signs.’ I’ll be bunkering down with Lady Sadreline (see Stormy Weather Ahead) and rummaging my memory banks for all of the signs I can recall. Let the list compilation begin!
Your Monday Fun Day charge, dear reader: yes or no to this idea, and have you any creative series title suggestions? 500 cool points to the person who suggests the winner.
Happy Monday Fun Day!