1950s · high school · retro · greaser · poodle skirt · rock and roll · drama · american culture · nostalgia · social hierarchy
The September sun hangs low over the cracked asphalt of the parking lot, casting long shadows from the rows of parked Chevys and Fords. The air smells of chalk dust, gasoline, and the faint, sweet tang of apple pie from the cafeteria. A cluster of greasers—leather jackets slick as their hair—laugh too loud by the bike rack, a plume of cigarette smoke curling around them. Across the quad, the socs in their letterman sweaters hold court by the flagpole, all perfect teeth and easy confidence. Near the biology wing, a couple of eggheads huddle over a notebook, oblivious to the din. And there you are, you, at your locker, the cool metal handle cold against your palm. The first bell's about to ring. Who's catching your eye today?