While many kids in the ’80s reveled in bright colors, pastel cardigans, and penny loafers, I was a self-proclaimed goth girl who preferred to envelop myself in black. Captivated by icons like Bela Lugosi and Peter Murphy, I avoided the bubblegum pop scene and the cheerleading squad. My introspective nature and deep emotions drew me to music that resonated with substance, along with the solace of quiet spaces where I could escape the bewildered gazes of my classmates.
Fast forward over twenty-five years, and I still embrace my unique and eccentric identity. The only real change is that I now have the freedom to choose my own wardrobe. I unabashedly don all black and continue to admire vampires just like I did back in high school. Just the other day, I found myself caught up in the excitement of Twilight alongside countless teens—until I saw the films. The portrayal was almost insulting. Preppy vampires? The vivid images I had conjured from the books were more akin to the Lost Boys than Sixteen Candles.
Speaking of ’80s films that still evoke strong feelings, there are a few infamous scenes that continue to trouble me—like those in The Breakfast Club and Pretty in Pink. If you were a dark wave enthusiast back then, you’ll understand. For those who cheered for the opposite team, let me clarify: Claire transformed Allison—a wonderfully introverted, black-clad wallflower—into the quintessential girl next door, while Andie chose Blane over Duckie. I still shake my head at that.
This lingering resentment is partly why I’ve missed countless invites to ’80s-themed parties. I know that traditional tribute events are brimming with bright colors, banana clips, and songs like “Safety Dance.” But that’s not how I experienced the ’80s, and just like those parties back then, I still prefer to sit them out.
It’s not that I don’t wish to reminisce; I do so daily while gazing at the framed poster of The Cure on my wall. It’s just an awkward affair for everyone involved. Even the DJ senses the tension when I approach him with a request for a song by The Sisters of Mercy—not exactly a standard track for an ’80s dance party. Even if he could play my favorites, he likely fears the audience’s reaction would mirror the horror of a live rendition of Debbie Gibson covering This Corrosion.
I can’t help but chuckle when people try to connect with me by claiming to like The Cure. Their attempts are cute, especially when they only know “that one song.” I remain skeptical unless they belt out “Torture” at karaoke instead of “Friday I’m in Love.” Until then, it’s just as amusing to me now as it was back then, especially when people still insist it’s Susie and the Banshees.
It’s not that I’m stuck in the past; for me, the gothic vibe of the ’80s is a feeling that has never faded. Clearly, I’m not alone in my fondness for the dark and mysterious. If that were the case, there wouldn’t be captivating roles for actors like Winona Ryder, Helena Bonham Carter, or Johnny Depp, who will forever be etched in my memory as Edward Scissorhands.
In truth, I owe my extended love for the ’80s gothic style to Tim Burton, my version of John Hughes. Without him and resources like this helpful article, I might feel as isolated and underappreciated as Lydia Deets. Thankfully, he has shown me I’m not so unique; there are many people out there, all grown up but somehow still fundamentally unchanged, emerging from their own figurative coffins to enjoy his latest dark masterpieces.
Secretly, I take joy in believing that his films celebrate someone like me. They serve as a tribute to an undead era known as the ’80s—a strange and unusual feeling that continues to haunt me and influence my wardrobe. Personally, I hope it never goes away.
Summary:
In this reflective piece, Lila Carter shares her experience of being a goth girl in the ’80s and how that identity has persisted into adulthood. While many of her peers embraced bright colors and mainstream culture, she was drawn to darker aesthetics and music. Lila expresses her continued admiration for gothic culture and how it has shaped her life, connecting it to iconic figures like Tim Burton. The piece captures the essence of nostalgia and individuality in a humorous and engaging manner.