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Anne Plummer (the one who went to her first prom last February) is the girl dancing in the historic blue poodle skirt, front and center, in last weekend’s CHURCH NEWS photo.  This was part of the ambitious Draper Temple and Oquirrh Temple Youth Celebration.  Her brother, Harrison, was also dancing somewhere, but alas, there is no photo of him.

I wore a hand-me-down poodle skirt the first decade they came around. I must have been in sixth grade.  I loved that skirt.  It was high fashion. Mine was red felt, with a black, curly-yarned poodle with a ruby colored eye. Black ball-fringe trimmed the bottom.  I wore it with a black cinch belt, which turned me into an immediate sex symbol.  Felt and expandable belts do that to you. 

I may have also been stuffing Kleenex into my new ballerina bra that year.

Above my bed was a gallery of Tab Hunter pictures.  Tab Hunter?  What was I thinking?  I loved him before I ever saw him in a movie and was mortified to hear his girly voice.  He made a record that I played over and over: “Red sails in the sunset, out over the sea; oh, carry my loved one home safely to me—“

Oh gasp, I made the mistake of mentioning this aloud and Tom has found Tab Hunter singing that very song on YouTube.  He sounds terrible!  He sounds ghastly!  I’m suffering.  I’m really suffering. 

Sometimes I hate Tom.

Okay, I was also listening to Elvis Presley and Bill Haley and the Comets.  I was rocking around the clock.

Here’s the truth:  I was never as cool as Anne Plummer.  Never.

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