I was desperate. It was about to be a really bad hair day. I was out of mousse and hairspray. Having neither means looking like I’ve been on a week-long camping trip to Austin in the middle of August, washing my hair in lake water. I exaggerate a little. I thought about having one of those love-yourself-exactly-as-you-are moments. I looked myself in the mirror and said, “Anita, you are fine . . . ly haired and you need some product.” Good talk.
Big D was sweet enough to run to the country store and bring back the only thing on their shelves for this emergency, White Rain. I laughed. I haven’t used White Rain since junior high. One spray and reruns of my ‘80s youth played in my head – a teenage girl’s heaven where smells like this rolled out of the bathroom in a literal fog. Sun-In, Witch-hazel, Chantilly, Cover Girl Face Powder, Heated Conair Rollers, Aqua Net, and when we were saving the ozone layer, White Rain pump spray were some of every American girl’s favorites.
We could spend hours at a time getting ready. My personal average was an hour-and-a-half. What were we getting ready for? What weren’t we getting ready for? Anything was possible on that trip with our parents to pick up Little Caesar’s and a VHS. Our skin was tight, our teeth were white, and our hair was a disaster. For this we can blame our mothers and aunts as much as ourselves. Years before our abuse of the curling iron, they were giving us Ogilvie home perms. (Another whiff of nostalgia that comes to me when changing our cats’ litter box, which, in small doses, I sort of like.)
I blame the music for our bloated primping schedules. “Sweet Child O ‘Mine”, “Brass Monkey”, “Wild, Wild West”, and “Red Red Wine” coming from the jam boxes in our bedrooms was like testosterone to a boy that age – pulsing through our bodies, giving us inhuman stamina and drive. We were our own Robert Palmer video, our own John Hughes music montage.
I haven’t run out of my bottle of White Rain, and I haven’t replaced it either. In fact, having no monetary connection to this product, I highly recommend this inexpensive trip back in time – a bargain at two bucks. Ratted bangs not required.
– Anita, Noted in Nashville