More to write about these two '70's icons -- they were closer to equal in pop culture influence than my teevee is currently demonstrating -- when I have time to write about it.
For now, there is a definite emptiness I feel when I look at their images and consider all that they were at the apex of my youth. There is a scene in Saturday Night Fever where John Travolta is looking in the mirror, feathering his hair with the blowdryer (I used to be able to do that). Reflected in the mirror is that poster of Farrah. You know the one: all hair and teeth and nipples. My younger brother had one up in the bedroom we shared. The Bee Gees and Michael Jackson and the discos were my generation's Twitter. We social-networked on the dance floor.
Jackson and I were just one month apart, age-wise. Farrah, you know by now, grew up in Corpus and went to UT, where men -- well, boys I suppose -- lined up at her dorm to ask her out.
Respect and links to others and pictures to be posted later.
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