Climbing into the backseat of my grandmother’s blue Buick Regal, with its navy vinyl roof, was the highlight of my Augusts. The end of summer signaled the start of our back-to-school shopping adventures. Nothing could compare to the excitement of preparing for the first day of school. I eagerly anticipated our trips to the local mall for clothes, long hours spent at K-Mart or Walmart scavenging for my treasured school supplies, and the casual ride as my mother and grandmother debated where to grab lunch while checking items off our lists. It was an experience I cherished.
Every fall in the ’80s, my sister and I would find ourselves in neighboring dressing rooms, our mother endlessly handing us vibrant neon tops and the perfect pair of jeans through the door. It felt almost like we were living the lives of fashion icons. Our mother was at our service, and this was the only time of year our opinions about clothing truly mattered. These choices were essential, as we would wear them repeatedly until we inevitably outgrew them.
Selecting the right shade of green for a Max Headroom Hypercolor T-shirt was crucial. And shoulder pads? They had to fit just right to help us channel our inner Dynasty starlets. In the ’80s and early ’90s, looking like a football player seemed to be the style goal for all of us. Jeans had to be perfectly whitewashed and rolled just so. Socks, if our mother insisted on buying them, could not be bulky in any form. We were relieved when she skipped that section entirely. What we really wanted was to rock our Keds sans socks—our sense of smell was probably delayed until high school.
While clothes shopping was enjoyable, nothing compared to the thrill of selecting my school supplies. Choosing the ideal notebook or cracking open a brand-new box of crayons to inhale that fresh waxy aroma was pure bliss. If we were fortunate, my mother would let us choose the box of Crayolas with the sharpener; otherwise, our grandmother sometimes stepped in. The years when markers and colored pencils were both approved felt like a jackpot!
Every item in those stationery aisles felt special and new to me. However, one item stands out above all: the legendary Trapper Keeper. It was the ultimate must-have, awkward yet beloved. My Trapper Keeper had to be displayed for everyone to see. It held all my textbooks, and when positioned just right, the design I had chosen peeked out proudly. This iconic binder was the pinnacle of my school supply haul. Alongside my vibrant blue Trapper Keeper adorned with a rainbow and that unmistakable Velcro closure, I would load up on freshly sharpened pencils, the perfect art box (cardboard, of course), and a classic metal lunchbox with a Thermos.
As we made our way through stores, the plush seats of the Buick were cushioned by shopping bags. My sister and I would sort through our loot, stashing everything in our rooms until the school year commenced. Our ride was filled with my mother’s remarks about how we had grown, her wish for us to stop rolling our pants, and her hope that crop tops would soon disappear from the fashion scene. Amidst the hunt for a restaurant, my sister and I plotted how to ask for extra goodies, like Lisa Frank stickers or a four-color pen.
Now, as a parent, life has taken me far from that backseat. The ’80s are long gone, and my teenagers have different tastes. Instead of neon shirts, they prefer muted colors. The socks they choose are ribbed and patterned, and I can’t help but cringe at their selections. Thankfully, Converse’s Chucks remain timeless, though my kids’ choices feature superhero designs rather than the classic white with red stripes. They seem oblivious to the art of cuffing jeans or how a perfect roll is crafted.
I had a fleeting moment of nostalgia when I saw the Trapper Keeper make a comeback. I almost did a little dance right there in the aisle! Yet, when I picked one up and took a whiff, I realized that the mesmerizing laminate scent of the original Trapper Keepers was irreplaceable.
These days, I can’t buy metal lunchboxes featuring classic characters like the Smurfs or Gremlins. My teens don’t even want the sleek, modern Trapper Keepers. Just last week, I was told to stick to plain-colored folders—no patterns, no stripes, and certainly no kittens. It seems I may have purchased my last box of Crayolas with the built-in sharpener. As my children progressed through elementary school, my joy in buying their supplies rivaled my own excitement during those shopping trips. Unfortunately, they’ve outgrown that enthusiasm, but I certainly have not.
I miss the ’80s fiercely, especially in August. I long for those backseat rides, sifting through bags filled with untouched clothing that still held that unmistakable store scent. I crave the nostalgic aroma of a vintage Trapper Keeper and the satisfying sound of its Velcro tearing open. Honestly, I would carry a metal E.T. lunchbox to work tomorrow if I could (don’t knock it till you’ve tried it). I would happily relive those days—except maybe for the shoulder pads. The ’80s can keep those.
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Summary:
This article reflects on the nostalgia of back-to-school shopping in the ’80s, from the excitement of selecting clothes and school supplies to the cherished memories of family outings. The author reminisces about the iconic Trapper Keeper and the joy of personal expression through fashion and supplies, contrasting it with the more subdued preferences of today’s teenagers.
Keyphrase: ’80s back-to-school shopping nostalgia
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