So during my summer of intensive (albeit sometimes poorly executed) female empowerment, I have been making a serious effort to rediscover girl-power moments from my past. This has involved repeat love affairs with Alanis Morisette's Jagged Little Pill & Liz Phair's Exile in Guyville, repeated viewings of Drop Dead Gorgeous, lots of time spent with Virginia, and as many bonding excursions with Kait as I can manage. But perhaps one of the more important rediscoveries of recent weeks is a little eight-year-old pop album I used to hear a lot in dance class way back in the day.
Kylie Minogue's Fever was called a come-back album, but I was too young when it came out to see it as such. In my mind, it was just the CD I left in my Discman for at least a solid six months (if not considerably longer). I was at an age where sexiness was a quality that had just entered my consciousness, an intangible I was sure I'd one day understand but did not see how or when such an outlandish thing could possibly occur in my own life. This album, aside from being one of the best, most infectiously danceable pop albums I've ever laid ears on, made me feel just a little bit closer to that moment in the timeline of my life. I don't know if it was her deliciously breathy voice or what, but I felt just a little bit bad-ass every time I listened to Fever. Even if I would have been scared to utter the phrase "bad-ass" aloud at the time. It's a bit like the way I felt when I had my fling with Lady Gaga a couple months ago, although things with Kylie seem to have stood the test of time, where as Gaga has yet to prove her longevity to me as of yet. I guess we'll give it another eight years?
My iPod was on shuffle today when I was driving back from buying work clothes for a function tonight, and "In Your Eyes" came blasting through my less than stellar sound system. It took me all the way back to the second story dance studio on Closter Dock, all the while reminding me that I still have a long way to go before I feel as sultry as Kylie sounds on that record. My on-going red lipstick experiment is helping, but Rome was not built in a day. One step, or in this case, one album, at a time.