…that are so bad, they’re good. I’m a child of the 80’s of which I’m very proud, because it means that I’ve had a lot of bad and awkward pictures. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a great childhood full of colorful houseguests, museumvisits, and even an immigration which almost automatically means a lot of awkward and embarassing moments. The matchy matchy sweatsuits preferably a combination of mint and purple (or in mine and my sisters case a green one and a pink one that was covered with bears; I’m talking pants too) I actually really loved mine and wanted to wear them the same time my sister wore hers. But obviously she was too cool for school and usually refused. Afro’s. My dad had one, at one point with a matching beard. his head was just hair and eyes. My sister had one too, but she had the Fresh-Prince-of-Bel-Air-blockhead kind, courtesy of my mom, who didn’t know what to do with her hair. This, of course, did not make my sister happy. Maybe that’s why she always looked a little angry in our childhood pics. The fannypack; in different colors and everybody had one. And because my parents were borderline hippies, we of course had to wear sandals with socks, because…why? To make matters a little worse, my sister and I remember vividly the many moments, when we just came to live in The Netherlands, where, on a weekly mandatory bikeride we had to sit on a bench eating our homemade sandwiches (bread&cheese) right next to a place where one could order a really nice sandwich but never would… for two (pre)pupescent girls, this was nothing short of torture. But thankfully, nothing drove my parents to take pictures like these. Enjoy!