Who am I? Where do I belong?

It's always been confusing being me. Growing up, I loved the music of the 60s and 70s, which meant that I completely missed out on what friends my age were actually listening too. To this day, when people talk about 80s and early-90s bands, I can't contribute.

Then there's my hair's era. My voluminous crowning glory belongs to the 80s, even if my music tastes don't. Unfortunately, I spent my teenage years in the 1990s, when everbody looked sleek and staight. Scraping my hair back and flat did nothing but look greasy from extensive product use.

Recently, I learnt that my body type belongs in the 1920s. Last night we went to a Flapper-themed party. (Flapper is the style of dress from the 1920s, for the uninitiated). I did some research on the fashion and learnt the following:

After the first world war (1914-18) when women's dress became more mannish, female clothes became looser and more shapeless in fit. The bust was suppressed, the waist disappeared, the shoulders became broader and hair shorter and shorter. Narrow boyish hips were preferred. The silhouette emphasised a flattened chest and womanly curves were eliminated as the line became more simplified. Foreheads were unfashionable in the 1920s.

No boobs. Check.

No waist. Check.

Boyish hips. Check.

I still have a forehead though. Doh.

Life would've been a bitch for Christina Ricci... there isn't a headpiece big enough.

The party was good. Not nearly enough Charlston dancing for my liking, but marching with about 50 flapper-styled expats through the streets of Rotterdam, in search of a late-night club is certainly a priceless (and probably once-off) experience.

Good times.