Especially this late-'80s/early-'90s bleed we have going on here.

Or maybe this is just a contemporary Instagram photo of a mall in Milwaukee, I don't know.

It will also double nicely as a hood for that order of '80s-worshiping monks you've been meaning to start!

So, you have to put on this dress from the bottom up, right? I mean, you're never going to be able to poke your limbs through the little holes on the top without getting juice everywhere.

"One Night in Flamenco-Roxy-Paris-Vegas" might not have been the most coherent theme for a dance after all.

Otherwise I'd be deep in a nostalgia-coma right about now.

Just remember, every time you think to yourself "Man, the '90s were SO MUCH BETTER than times today," one of these little punks puts another quarter in the Billy Ray Cyrus jukebox and continues the cycle of misery. Remember that.

What? Are you saying that I may have false conceptions of an era I had zero participation in outside of other nostalgia-ridden perspectives from suspect sources? That's CRAZY TALK.