My mom emailed me this picture of me and my brother Coe, delivering Uncle Johnny (see previous post) a balloon on his birthday. Coe still lives next door to Johnny and visits him often.
Fifth grade was the year of turtlenecks and printed vests. And tapered jeans with flats. And a slicked backed pony tail with huge poofed bangs. Oh. It’s so painful to relive.
You know you had your own awful youthful fashion choices. Spill it in the comments.