So this is a shout-out to the old school. I'm old school to a fault. I was born in 1968 and sorta never left. Old school is synonymous with retro and both beckon the beads and skinny boned sixties and seventies folk of that not forgotten era. Great imagery pops-up when we recall that time frame and those icons (Hendrix, Kennedy, Shorter, Pre, etc.) that came to represent that style.
My wife and I went to a 70's party this weekend. Of course, we had to wear the garb (I had no problem coming-up with something - 2 to 3 "costumes" ez), dance the vibe (there was a DJ) and even eat representative fare (Swedish meatballs, some killer tuna caserole with ruffles topping, an old school macaroni salad, some other "cheesy" appetizers and a bunch of jug red wine and domestic beer (not IPA)). Here is fairly grainy photo of us prior to party departure.
My lovely wife
The sweat suit is from my high school soccer daze. The glasses Serengetis I schnagged from my parents: things are legit. The dogs are the flats I ran a 1:30 half in back when I trained old school, before this damn blog updated my gig ;-)
Oh, the good ole daze. . .