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Culture,  Fashion,  Life,  Memoir,  Non-fiction,  Uncategorized,  Urban Neighborhood,  Youth

80s Clothes We Needed 

I remember being infatuated with brand names in middle school in New Orleans to the point my Mom would not allow me to wear certain things as punishment. It only made me skip school. I remember one day she made me wear this orange plaid homemade pleated shirt and top. I wanted to die, but instead I walked my lil sister to the streetcar, walked around a bit and went back home after she left for work. 😂 My Mom would make me change out of these clothes to put on old play clothes. Like, OMG I could not win with her. 😂 The 80s was hard, if you didn’t fit in… I remember in the 8th grade at Wright Middle School in Nola, Fredrick Williams, one of the popular boy’s was naming the girls he said was “cute girls, who could dress” in the class and it felt like it took forever for him to say my name.. It’s something at 40yrs old I still remember that..

Over the years I out grew it, but it made me spoil my own kids with the things they wanted, well felt they needed. 

Here are a few of my 80s faves.


Native of New Orleans, who endured 20yrs cruel Minnesota Cold, I decided at 42yrs old it was time to pack up my then 6yr old and come back to my roots. I am all things that would challenge the belief of growing up in New Orleans. I was a 16yr old teen mother of a preterm 2lb baby girl born with a disability. With the help of my mother who had her own struggles. We survived the obstacles laid before us. I'm the proud mother of three children with two failed adoptions, as well as a grandmother of three, two grandsons and a granddaughter. I survived two abusive marriages. I successfully ran a soulfood restaurant and catering company in Minnesota for 12 years. I started creating custom cakes after the murder of my beloved cousin Melvin Paul.  He survived Katrina only to go to Minneapolis six months later to be murdered over a parking spot dispute.  I put my all into my cake business over the years as House of Cakes was started right out of my house in honor of him. I thought by having the big house on the hill, a husband, having a family, foster/adoptive mother at that, being involved in all things that matter, plus having the funds to match would cure me in a sense; but most of it poisoned my heart and soul. I had a broken heart and I felt deep down the only way to repair it was to get back to my roots, my soul, my home,  myself, my New Orleans. I'm here and I'm loving it. Even being in the so called Blighted Area of New Orleans and not having all the financial and material security, I'm happy. I am determined that She, yes New Orleans is a woman is just like me; together we will overcome and will rise from all that tried to kill our spirit. Nothing like starting from the bottom and making your way back up! I'm down in the boot, but I know I have a nice floppy hat awaiting my destiny...

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