I was never much of a raver. I was too busy getting moody and sullen with my punk music and my whiny indie rock to ever delve too deeply into the rave scene. But even I couldn’t escape the rave fashion of the ’90s; I once bought a horrible synthetic fabric maxi skirt from Philly’s resident tacky rave wear shop, Agent Aloha. The image of women in ’90s rave culture, was curious: Women were somewhat sexualized––the standard outfit was oversized, crazy-big pants paired with a baby T and sneakers––but also infantilized, particularly within the candy raver scene, where sucking on pacifiers was de riguer. So I guess … sexy babies? Ecstasy was the drug of choice back then. I did it once and had a great time, but then woke up the next day feeling like I was going to die. I didn’t die (obvs), but I did realize that people who have weird serotonin issues probably shouldn’t fuck around with MDMA.
In any case. Keep reading »