That time MACHINE MOMENT

KERRE SAYS HULLABALOO TO THE BONZA IDEA OF AN ’80S DRESS-UP PARTY

Ilove an invitation to a party that asks guests to dress up in theme. Say no more! No eye rolls or resigned sighs from me. I’m in, boots and all.

Although when I received an invitation to the opening night of the musical experience Pleasuredome, it posed a bit more of a challenge for me than other events have done. A Dangerous Liaisons theme or a ’20s vibe, even a letter of the alphabet, something like a “D” party, that’s dressing up.

But Pleasuredome is set in a nightclub in the 1980s and to me, that seems like only yesterday. It’s not, of course. It’s 30 years ago. A generation ago.

The ’80s was my era and dressing up in puffball skirts and jackets with ridiculous shoulder pads doesn’t seem like a lark to me. It seems almost normal. Not that I kept any of my outfits from that time.

I suppose when you’re young, you don’t think about keeping your favourite dress because one day, when you’re 52, you might feel like wearing it as fancy dress.

So I headed to my favourite costume-hire place. The young woman who helped me wasn’t even a glint in her father’s eye in the ’80s, but she was awfully enthusiastic when I asked her to point me in the right direction.

“Ooooh,” she said. “I love the ’80s. I love looking at Mum’s photos from that time. Would you like to go punk or Madonna or Dynasty?” I decided I’d be best channelling the shoulder pads, the sequins and bows, and big earring look of the ’80s.

I was never a punk. And while I’d loved the Madonna look when I was a teenager, replicating that look as a sober matron of 50 might have been a little too much. My young helper carried a range of dresses into the cubicle and pulled the curtain.

It was like stepping into a time machine. The look, the feel and the smell of the clothes took me right back to 1984. It was an extraordinary feeling.

Normally when I’m dressing up, it’s from a time not my own. But the ’80s were my formative years. So much happened from 1980 to 1990 – not just to me, but to the entire country.

Memories came rushing back as I tussled with taffeta, polyster and organza. I made my selection and drew back the curtain, and I was back in 2017. But since then, I’ve been on a bit of a sentimental journey.

I’ve been looking at old fashion magazines, listening to Whitney Houston and Madonna, and reminiscing. I would have sold my grandmother for a gorgeous leather dress modelled by the ever beautiful

Rachel Hunter. I remember saving whatever was left from my pittance of a pay for a black velvet cocktail dress with satin gloves trimmed with ostrich feathers, and I desperately wish I’d held on to the beautiful suede dress from Zulu that cost me a month’s wages.

I remember the names of the fashion labels of the time – Hullabaloo,

Thornton Hall, Annie Bonza – like I remember the names of the cool girls at school. They represented all I desired to be.

I kept nothing but memories from the ’80s, but as part of my trip down memory lane I found a couple of old ’80s dresses on TradeMe that I snapped up for a song. Perhaps I’ll have another ’80s party to attend one day. Or maybe one day

I’ll have a granddaughter who will love playing dress-ups in clothes from the olden days.

But for her nana, they weren’t the olden days. They were the time that Nana was young and wild, and a time when she thought anything was possible.

‘ I’ve been looking at old magazines, listening to Whitney Houston and reminiscing’