There was nothing quite like squeezing into the backseat of my grandmother’s old blue Buick Regal, a vehicle that carried a charming navy vinyl top. Each August, this marked the start of a cherished tradition: our back-to-school shopping spree. The end of summer signified not just the return to school, but the thrill of preparing for a new academic year. I eagerly anticipated our trip to the local mall to find the latest clothes and spend hours in K-Mart or Walmart, eagerly exploring the aisles for school supplies that I could call my own. The ride was a delightful mix of my mother and grandmother discussing meal options while checking off our shopping lists, and I soaked it all in.
Every fall in the ’80s, my sister and I would eagerly await our turn in the dressing rooms, with our mother passing through a parade of neon shirts and form-fitting jeans. It was a bit like being a Kardashian, with our mom catering to our whims. This was our moment to exercise our fashion vetoes, knowing these pieces would be our daily attire until we inevitably outgrew them. Our choices felt significant—selecting the perfect shade of green for a Max Headroom Hypercolor T-shirt or ensuring our shoulder pads were suitably dramatic to match the Dynasty vibe. Jeans had to be the ideal whitewash, and the right length for that classic roll—anything less was simply unacceptable.
Shopping for clothes was just half the fun; I was equally enthusiastic about picking out school supplies. The experience of selecting the perfect notebook and opening a fresh box of crayons to inhale that unmistakable wax scent was sheer joy. If we were fortunate, our mother would allow us to grab the box of Crayolas complete with a built-in sharpener, or perhaps our grandmother would treat us. The years when markers and colored pencils were both on the list were particularly thrilling!
One memory stands out above all: the iconic Trapper Keeper. This clunky yet beloved binder was a must-have, designed to showcase the artwork I had carefully selected. It would hold the weight of my textbooks as I navigated through school, and I made sure to position it just so, so everyone could admire my chosen design. The Trapper Keeper was the crowning jewel of my school supply haul, alongside a beloved blue one adorned with a rainbow and a loud Velcro closure, fresh pencils, an ideal art box (cardboard, not plastic), and a classic metal lunchbox equipped with a Thermos.
As we traveled between stores, my sister and I would eagerly sift through our shopping bags, sorting our treasures into personal piles destined for our bedrooms until the first day of school. Our mother would often comment on how much we had grown and lament the fashion choices we made, while my sister and I plotted to ask for extra treats like Lisa Frank stickers or a multi-color pen during lunch.
Time has whisked me far from that backseat in the Buick Regal; it’s no longer the ’80s, and now I am a parent. My own teenagers have little interest in neon hues; they prefer muted black or minimalist styles. The socks they choose are a far cry from what I wore—ribbed, striped, and over-the-top patterns that completely baffle me. At least Converse Chucks have stood the test of time, albeit with superhero designs instead of the classic white with red stripes. My kids don’t grasp the significance of a good rubber band for cuffing jeans, nor do they know that a tight roll isn’t something you can buy at a donut shop.
I recently had a fleeting moment of nostalgia when I spotted the Trapper Keeper making a comeback. I almost broke into a dance right there among the school supplies! I wanted to grab one for each of my kids, but upon closer inspection, I realized that the smell—the signature laminate scent of the original Trapper Keepers—couldn’t be replicated.
Gone are the days of purchasing metal lunchboxes adorned with Smurfs or Gremlins, and my teenagers have no desire for vibrant notebooks or the updated Trapper Keepers. Just last week, I was instructed to buy plain folders in subdued colors—no patterns or kittens allowed. Their binders disappoint me with their lack of neon and retro flair. I fear that I may have bought my last box of Crayolas with the plastic sharpener tucked inside.
As my children outgrow their excitement for school supplies, I find myself yearning for the past. I miss the ’80s—the thrill of rummaging through bags of new clothes, the unmistakable scent of a vintage Trapper Keeper, and the sound of its Velcro flap. Honestly, I would carry a metal E.T. lunchbox to work if I could (don’t judge until you’ve tried it!). I’d relive those moments all over again—except perhaps for the shoulder pads. The ’80s can keep those.
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In summary, the nostalgia of the ’80s back-to-school shopping trips remains a cherished memory, filled with vibrant colors, unique styles, and the thrill of selecting just the right supplies. Though times have changed, the joy of those experiences continues to resonate.