I have to admit I don't know all that much about Stevie Nicks, especially relative to what I know about most people whose music I like. However, I do know that just like Joan Cusack in School of Rock, I totally lose my shit whenever "Edge of Seventeen" comes on the radio. (And yes, "lose my shit" is my new catchphrase.)
The summer I graduated from high school I should have been focused on my job babysitting three young bothers, including a hyper active eight year old with a fondness for setting fires, but alas I spent most of the summer glued to MTV. They played Stevie's video for "Stand Back" just about every hour. I was obsessed with it. It had everything; lots of twirling and shawls (of course!) and a sexy male dancer in baggy pants and Capezios. Plus Stevie rocking out on a neon lit treadmill perched on an incline.
Given all that, really, how could I have been expected to pay much attention to those no neck little monsters? I suppose I am lucky that the little pyromaniac didn't set the rooms all on fire (to borrow a phrase from Stevie) while I was busy practicing my twirling.
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