So, you graduate beyond singing in your high school bedroom, on through Steve’s shed and the room above your parents’ garage, past the Yab Yum coffee bar, the Mill in Orlando, past The Greenleaf in Williamsburg, Fins in Virginia Beach, and, at last, Trax in Charlottesville.
Next, you are on the road in a Dodge Caravan for the better part of a year. Then another van; then a bus. Another year. When you’re finally home from the road, there is stool with your name on it at the Sapphire Super Club, from which you will never graduate, just like you never stop singing in the shower or the car.
Then, unfathomable from those days on that stool, nearly 30 years have passed and you’re unboxing old keepsakes, searching for the now-coveted single-stitch hem shirts which are apparently the shit and which your kids want to trade for when they go thrifting. The 90s are evidently back in style (wince).
One relic of that bygone era—one that thankfully has not endured—is the ill-fitting SHINY SHIRT.
If you are of a certain age, then you know exactly what I am talking about, and you’re probably already shaking your head.
This was the short-lived moment during the birth of reality TV when they convinced an entire ½ generation of new adults that they could make themselves over by acquiring a garment that looked like a fluorescent orange fishing lure. Or, better, some shimmering red flames in the shape of a devil so the whole world would know you were on the edge of a very, very good time.
It’s no secret: I did the shiny shirt, too. We’re all in this together.
I present for your listening pleasure: “Shiny Shirt.” Never released.
Mom always told (tells!) me, “Don’t be so serious all the time.”
I hear you. Shine on you crazy diamond.
Truly,
JR
Thanks for sharing this one! I have it on a well-worn disc I burned of a bunch of songs we shared with each other back on the boards. This version doesn't skip! :-)
I’ve always loved this one!