Pretty in Pink Hit Different This Time Around

I grew up on romcoms.

Like, grew UP on them. Posters on the wall. Renting any movie my favorites were in. Buying soundtracks for movies I only liked one song from. I was a hopeless romantic who believed in grand gestures and the right song at the right moment and love as the thing that fixed everything and made everything make sense.

I wanted that. I wanted to be seen like that. Loved like that. To feel the way I felt watching those movies.

I'm a serial mompreneur in my fifties. Divorced. Found my way back to love. A seasoned chaos manager. And I watched that movie this time like a completely different person. Because I am.

Here's the thing about Andie Walsh. She was dealing with a lot. The money gap between her and Blane's world. The cruelty of his friends. The pressure to shrink herself or disappear or at least stop being so obvious about where she came from. And she didn't. She just... didn't. She was hurt, she let herself be hurt, but she still showed up. She took what she had and she made something out of it and she walked in wearing it.

I watched her do that and I thought, oh. I know that feeling.

Not the prom part. The making-something-from-what-you-have part. The minis underfoot, the pile of whatever was in reach, the season where everything felt heavy but you still got up and made something colorful anyway because what else were you going to do. That was us. That was Everyday Sillybrations before I even knew what to call it. Random holidays, paper and markers, a toy collection doubling as a prop department, building something bright in the middle of a stretch that wasn't.

Creativity was always my faithful companion. Even when I felt like an outsider, I could always make something. That never left.

I also couldn't stop watching (Not-So) Mini Stylist watch it.

Because these are things she's going to experience. Some of it she's already experiencing, honestly. The pressure. The cruelty. The way the world has very loud opinions about where you belong and whether you've earned your place there. Except now there are more screens and more places to feel it and it somehow never turns off.

I wanted her to see Andie and recognize something. I didn't say that out loud. I just watched her face.

She cried at the end for Duckie. My girl is fully Team Duckie and I will protect that forever.

I think she caught something.

Here's what I know from here, from this age, from this particular seat in my own life: you see completely different things when you watch from a different chapter. The love story I was watching for at fifteen is not the love story I was watching for this time. This time I was watching how Andie moved. How she carried herself. What she did with the hurt instead of letting it stop her.

That's the love story I want to watch now. Not the will they or won't they. The leading lady. Just her.

Inspired by Andie Walsh:

🩷 A hug to myself: Wearing this outfit I made!

💋 A kiss to myself: Put together my P.S. Pass It On pen pal kits during the movie.

🪞 Mirror check: Thought about when did I last show up for myself? Nervous, maybe not totally prepared, but just walked in anyway?