It Was Acceptable In the Noughties

As previously discussed, I am not good at accomplishing little tasks that I can avoid. I put the pro in procrastination. This is how, 5 years after moving out, my teenage bedroom remains relatively untouched. Sure, the surfaces are all bare and shiny, but lurking just beneath lies a powerful undercurrent of teenage angst, circa 2004.

Oh yeah, this is where the magic happened. And by magic, I mean this is where I read all seven Harry Potter books

Oh yeah, this is where the magic happened. And by magic, I mean this is where I read all seven Harry Potter books

My mum seems to have finally realised that she could actually use that space for things if I moved all the shit I haven’t looked at in five years, and has started to insist that I clear out my drawers. Enlisting the help of the sister, I decided to tackle one such drawer last night.

When, upon opening said drawer, the first thing out of my mouth was “OMG SCRUNCHIES!”, I could tell that this was going to be a lot more fun than I had originally thought. Hilarity ensued. Cleaning out of drawers did not.

Obviously, having laid our hands on a load of scrunchies, the first thing to do was put our hair up in awesome early noughties styles.

We also found fairy wands. Because what teenage girl doesn't need two tiny plastic wands?

Bunches FTW. We also found fairy wands. Because what teenage girl doesn’t need two tiny plastic wands?

Suitably prepared, it was time to empty the drawer. In the drawer, we found:

All of the Miss Sporty and 17 Makeup


I assume that at some point, I heard someone say you could use makeup to bring out the colour in your eyes, and took it quite literally. I can just imagine 15 year old me, with my train track braces and ill-advised blunt fringe, trowelling various shades of green onto my eyelid and reassuring myself that not only were glittery green eyes totally cool and sexy, but also completely school-appropriate.

The worst foundation in the world

I’m going to stick up for my teenage self here and assume that this was a freebie. As much as my early eyeshadow game left a lot to be desired, I’ve always been pretty good at the whole foundation thing. But get a load of this.


Seriously, whose face is this colour? Can we stop manufacturing orange foundations and instead concentrate on developing colours that resemble what real women’s faces look like? Why are the only two foundation colours available white or orange? Get it together, makeup companies.

This very fetching hairnet. And sunglasses.

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Why do I own this?

The original iPod shuffle

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Featuring such delights as Anastacia, Good Charlotte and the entire Les Miserables soundtrack (some things never change). I was the coolest cat in town with this little guy.

A battery that was probably seconds away from becoming sentient

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Okay, this is straight up dangerous. What makes a battery ooze? Is Sophie going to get superpowers from touching it?

A veritable plethora of disposable razors

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I took this opportunity to bust out my lesser known alter ego, Edward Razorhands.

Literally all of the lipgloss in the world


And these are only the ones that didn’t make it to uni with me. I loved me some lipgloss. The one in the pot with the tassle smelled pretty funky, I’ll be honest. But I think it always smelled like that. Maybe.

Photo on 06-02-2014 at 23.25


At this point, we realised it had gotten pretty late, so just scooped everything up, stuck it back in the drawer and vowed never to speak of it again.

And now, I can go back to employing the excellent doublethink that allows me to be exceptionally proud of a makeup drawer that looks like this…

Dat organisation.

Dat organisation.

…while completely ignoring the fact that I also own a drawer that, for all I know, could be the final resting place of Shergar.

God only knows what’s lurking in the rest of them…

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