WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 2026
Prink: The Sartorial Extremes
We Went To for Love
“Prink verb — to dress or groom oneself carefully or elaborately; to primp; to make
oneself look attractive with great attention to detail.”
We Boomers know prinking. We know it intimately. We know the feeling of standing in
front of a mirror for forty-five minutes, adjusting, fussing, second-guessing every
decision. The bell-bottoms that had to fit just right. The hair that required a curling
iron, a blow dryer, and prayers to whatever gods we believed in. The cologne or
perfume applied with the precision of a surgeon. The shoes—oh, the shoes—buffed to ashine that could reflect your future.
Prinking was our love language before we had words for it. It was how we said, “You
matter enough for me to try.” It was armor and confession wrapped into one. We prink
for dates, for dances, for chance encounters at the mall or the beach or the bowling
alley. We prink because we hope. We prink because love—or even just the possibility of
love—demanded nothing less than our best effort.
The Extremes We Went To
Looking back, some of our prinking choices were… let’s call them enthusiastic. Fashion
was our playground, and we treated it like an extreme sport.
The Platform Shoe Era (1970s)
[Public Domain Reference: Platform shoes with 2-3 inch soles, often in suede or
polyester. Popular styles from Wikimedia Commons and Library of Congress collections,
1970s fashion archives]
We wore platforms so tall we could barely walk. And yet we did walk—down
hallways, into parties, across dance floors. Some of us reached heights we’d
never know again, literally and figuratively. The goal? To be noticed. To tower
above the crowd. To signal: I am here, I tried, I am worth looking at.
Source: Public domain fashion archives
The platform shoe era was about maximalism. Why be noticed when you could be
impossible to ignore? The shoes were a statement: “I am committed to this look.” They
required planning. You couldn’t just slip them on and head out—they demanded
respect, balance, and confidence.
The Disco Inferno (1970s-1980s)
Public Domain Reference: Disco fashion including polyester shirts, wide lapels, wide
collars, leisure suits, and shimmering fabrics. Iconic images from Saturday Night Fever
era and fashion archives, 1970s-1980s]
Disco demanded prinking at its most elaborate. The leisure suit—that apex of
polyester confidence—required commitment. Combine it with a chest-bearing
shirt, a gold chain, and hair sculpted with precision, and you were ready to
conquer the dance floor.
Source: Public domain fashion and entertainment archives
Disco nights were pilgrimages. We’d spend hours preparing, knowing that the goal was
to emerge as our best selves. The prinking wasn’t vanity; it was ritual. It was saying:
“Tonight, I am transformed. Tonight, I am what I want to be.”
The Big Hair Movement (1980s)
[Public Domain Reference: 1980s hair styles featuring voluminous perms, teased hair,
and elaborate styling. Images from Wikimedia Commons, Library of Congress, and
fashion history archives]
Volume. Height. Structural engineering that would have impressed Frank Lloyd
Wright. We teased our hair, sprayed it, blow-dried it into sculptures that could
withstand a Category 5 hurricane.
Source: Public domain fashion archives, 1980s
The bigger the hair, the bigger the statement. This wasn’t just prinking—it was a
declaration of confidence. “Yes, I spent an hour on this. Yes, it required three cans of
hairspray. Yes, it’s magnificent.”
The Mod Look (1960s)
[Public Domain Reference: 1960s mod fashion featuring miniskirts, go-go boots, bold
geometric patterns, and clean-lined silhouettes. Images from Wikimedia Commons and
Library of Congress cultural archives]
Before the extremes, we had the precision of mod style—miniskirts paired with
go-go boots, bold geometric patterns, graphic eyeliner applied with architectural
precision. This was prinking as art form: every line intentional, every choice
deliberate.
Source: Public domain fashion archives, 1960s
The Purpose Behind the Prinking
We didn’t prink because we had to. We prink because we wanted to be seen.
Understood. Desired. We prink because attraction—real attraction—involves effort, and
our effort was our honesty.
“Every curl, every polyester thread, every inch of platform sole was a
silent promise: I think you’re worth the trouble.”
Our prinking was also a form of self-expression in an era when conformity was still
expected. By daring to wear platform shoes that reached toward the heavens, or a
leisure suit in hot pink, or hair that defied gravity itself, we were saying something
revolutionary: “I get to decide what I look like. I get to be bold. I get to take up space.”
Looking back, the extremes make sense. We were young. We were hopeful. We believed
that if we looked good enough, tried hard enough, primped thoroughly enough, we
could somehow fashion ourselves into the people we wanted to be—and maybe, just
maybe, we’d catch the eye of someone equally brave and equally committed to the art of
prinking.
What We Remember
We remember the details because they mattered:
The cologne that lingered: Identifying a person by their scent before you
saw their face.
The outfit we agonized over: Trying on seven combinations before settling
on the one.
The shoes we couldn’t actually walk in: But looked phenomenal standing
still.
The hair that took longer than the date itself: Worth every minute.
The moment we caught someone’s eye: All that prinking, validated in an
instant.
The confidence that came from looking our best: Walking into a room
knowing we’d tried.
These memories aren’t frivolous. They’re evidence of our youth, our hope, our
willingness to be vulnerable. Every sartorial extreme was an act of optimism disguised
as vanity.
Your Turn: Share Your Prinking Stories
What were the lengths you went to? What outfit, hairstyle, or accessory represented
your most ambitious prinking moment? Did it work? Do you still have photos? We want
to hear about the extreme fashion choices you made in the name of love and hope.
What’s Your Prinking Memory?
Tell us about your most daring sartorial moment. The outfit you’ll never forget.
The style you thought was perfection. The look that caught someone’s attention.
What Era? (1960s, 1970s, 1980s, etc.)
E.g., ‘1975’, ‘early 1980s’
Your Outfit or Style
E.g., ‘Platform shoes and a polyester shirt’
Your Prinking Story
Tell us about the occasion, why you chose this look, and what happened. Did it
work? Do you have photos?
Share Your Memory
The Boomrz Network: Celebrating the Style, Spirit, and Stories of a Generation