So, I’m sitting here — well, reclining — on my couch (my husband and I each have our own couches, like any normal couple) on one of those rare occasions where I drift to the basement to hang with my better half. Anyway, so I’m sitting here watching Saturday Night Fever. For the first time.
That’s right. I’m 41 and I’ve never watched Saturday Night Fever. I have the soundtrack, but I haven’t seen the movie.
How did this happen?
I pride myself on being a child of the 80s: Duran Duran’s Arena was my first pop cassette, followed closely by Madonna circa Like a Virgin and a myriad of other artists that I would just record off the radio because that’s what we did in the 80s.
However, being born in the 70s, I also grew up on the sounds of ABBA (in Spanish, thankyouverymuch), the BeeGees, Boney M, Julio Iglesias and various Spanish flamenco vinyls.
I can still picture the album covers.
I mean, DISCO, YOU GUYS!
For the uninitiated, this movie is a John Travolta, Welcome-Back-Kotter-era, classic 70s flick. And as I’m watching I’m wondering two things:
- How is disco dead?
- How the Hell did we survive the 70s?
The music alone is epic (1977’s Stayin’ Alive is a party anthem even by today’s standards). Then there’s the dancing, the hair, the platform shoes, the butterfly collars, the chest hair, the bell-bottoms, the lit-up dance floors, the HAIR, the macho-macho man, the moves, the leisure suits, the ‘staches, the cars, the gold chains, the smoking, the drinking-and-driving-with-no-seatbelts, the Farrah Fawcett poster — with, of course, THAT HAIR.
Seriously, HOW DID WE SURVIVE THE 70s?! I mean, the Aqua Net alone…