Sweet Valley High

Could there be two different girls who look the same?

Err.. yeah if they're, you know, twins and that (unless they're Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito).

I've been singing this a lot today. Don't ask me why I've been binging on early 90's tween tv recently (maybe because, according to this, 'the idealization of a time period generally comes about 20 years after that time period ends, and as scary as it seems, we're getting pretty close to being two decades out from 1990' or maybe because I'm an unemployed bum with little else to occupy my mind. Most likely it's a little from column A and a little from column B). At any rate, when the time comes that I'm hunting down my purple docs and wearing electric blue fishnets under ripped jeans (yes really) we can start worrying properly (actually, that sounds awesome. Now I've got a clothing project for tomorrow! Yay!). However in this instance I think it's because of this. Although our twins weren't so keen on beating other stripper bitches up or indeed dating the same guy AT THE SAME TIME (I don't think... Plus, I reckon Jessica had this latent lesbo vibe that hot, strong women with firm jaws often do so, if anything, Liz really only had to worry about her stealing away sweet lil' Enid and teaching her dirty, dirty things)...

Sorry I got caught up in my own lesbian fantasy there. Where was I? Ah yes, Sweet Valley High. The books, the television show, the soundtrack; it all permeated my primary school years (ok, not so much the soundtrack but I needed something else for the 'rule of three'). Twas not a corner on the playground, a line waiting patiently for lunch, nor the allocated Friday afternoon reading sessions where one could not find a pile of Sweet Valley High books were one to ransack the belongings of a bunch of 8 year olds girls (and if you were to do that, you SICK FUCK). I loved it. Hell, everyone with two 'X' chromosomes (and some with 'XY' chromosomes and a whole lot of fabulous) loved it. Along with the books (them, 'Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit', and Paula Danziger books were my literary OBSESSIONS around then. Oh god, now I'm going to have to raid the loft and hunt those bad boys down. I'm officially renaming tomorrow 'Nostaligia Day' and I'm going to wallow in it until all my eyebrows grow back and that awful fringe my mum cut for me returns) was of course the tv show and in turn, the tv show's title sequence.

[Just for a second pretend it's Saturday morning, you're there with a bowl of shreddies in your Take That pajamas laughing at something John Barrowman has just said and then Emma Forbes turns to camera with a cute lil' pixie grin and introduces this...]




and you're like 'Holy fuck. This is awesome'.

Most notably, I've just realised why I used to edge my photographs in my scrapbooks on just two sides in pastels like that.

So yeah, we've got twins. Blonde, skinny twins. Immediately you're thinking 'where's the shot of them in a bikini? And er... why aren't they all incestuously snuggling?'* but don't worry because BAM! 10 seconds in and we've got bikinis, seven seconds later... the snuggling commences. PHEW!

Then we get the ironic (in the Alanis Morissette version of the word where it's not really that ironic... ironically) 'could there be two different girls who look the same?' lyric, visually juxtaposed with them being all different and stuff. One wears white, the other black! They walk in different directions! One hugs people, the other grabs her own ass and stands away from crowds! THIS SHIT IS BANANAS!

But that's not all. Francine Pascal's SVH isn't just about ass-grabbing twins. Look! What light through yonder window breaks? Tis Amarilis; she enjoys using a lot of product in her hair, looking from left and right, and sighing. With talents like that she really only needs one name. Let's face it, one day she's going to make it BIG... and I do mean Madonna, Oprah and Fonzy big (it's just she needed to take a bit of a break after doing that Fresh Prince episode in 1995 and is still working towards the making it big thing. It's on her to do list alright? Just, shut up ok because her agent has some very promising leads and yeah, he hasn't been in touch lately but that's totally fine because she's got some really important and fulfilling things to do like watching The View and Tyra).

Then it's this smug muthafucker who has THREE names to make up for Amarilis having only one. Fuck me, WHY did we like step haircuts? (I'm sure I've posed this before). You just know that someone with teeth that white and skin that tanned is a total dick in real life (personally I much preferred the Jeremy Garrett version of 'Todd Wilkins' as this floppy haired bitch just made me all eye-stabby). Don't worry though because Brock Burnett (and I thought having ridiculous names and seeming kind of gay was a recent thing!) looking to all the world like your friendly neighbourhood serial date rapist has rolled into view. THEN, THEN, come the lesbians. Or at least the college 'experimentation' brand of lesbians. They probably ended up married with two kids but will always look back fondly on their days of wearing love bead chokers** and twirling around in waistcoats being guided gently into the scary and exciting world of 'lady lovin'' by a German girl called 'Olga'.

Or not.

The token nerd, the token latino ('person of color' if you PLEASE), laughing, running, jumping, skating and then...

*CUE POORLY WRITTEN AND ABYSMALLY CHARACTERISED PROGRAMME*

Bliss.



*For the record, I don't get why twins top the male lesbian fantasy league because isn't incest kinda gross? Like, evolution and socialisation has made it gross so why is this particular incest type shizz ok? Or do I just not want to know? Yeah, ok, never mind.
** Not that I'm knocking chokers. Around that time I had a black velvet one with a rose in the middle. A style goddess even then.