Memory, Musings, Real Life

Super Bowl? Not me.

Me, 1966, French lab.

When the topic of the Super Bowl came up in conversation a week or so ago, someone asked me if I follow the NFL. I don’t. Not at all. But as your brain does, it threw up a football memory a few days later.

I went to high school in Indianapolis, Indiana during the 60s. This memory probably came from 1965 because I saw myself with a blonde “flip” hairstyle. I was dressed in wool Bermuda shorts with matching knee socks and cardigan, worn over a pastel (blue, pink, yellow) Bobbie Brooks blouse with a Peter Pan collar. This must have been at the start of the high school football season because, as the season progressed, I would have been wearing my burgundy corduroy car coat.

Anyway, the most vivid part of this memory is that I’m wearing a Max Factor lipstick called Strawberry Meringue. Actually, the company called it a “lip frosting” and advertised it as having a “glimmering, shimmering, iridescent finish.” And it certainly did. Two of my friends that night wore the same lipstick, so as we stood talking in front of the bleachers, I could see that it glowed in the stadium lighting, making our lips the focus of our faces.

Going to the games on Friday nights was the thing to do. Yes, we supported our teams, but the real reason we “unattached” girls were there was to be seen, to—hopefully—secure a Saturday night date. Did glowing lips help our chances? Well, I doubt it hurt.

Can you relate?