Reunited, and It Feels So ... What?

In the fall of 1980, multicolored leg warmers pulled over Chic jeans, long Farrah Fawcett hair blow-dried into wings, I had sauntered onto the campus of a fancy New England college. It could have been any one of a number of ivy-encumbered, self-satisfied universities; it just happened to be the one that admitted me. I arrived to the strains of the Clash, the Ramones, and Blondie blasting from leaded-glass windows cranked wide. I came trailing a faint scent of Windsong, along with a top-note