Life Unfiltered: Contempo Jeans and House Party Dreams

As I drove into work this morning, a song came on that took me all the way back. I mean, it snatched me out of the present and dropped me right back into my Contempo Store shopping days. I started laughing to myself because the memories came flooding in so strong.

This was back when we thought we were grown, but we were still very much under somebody’s roof, eating somebody’s food, and trying not to get caught doing things we had no business doing.

This particular memory takes me back to my first and last house party.

Yes, first and last.

My mother let me have a party at the house. Now, if only she knew I had already been to a few parties outside of my house. And let me tell you, those were the real ones. Mine was cool, but it was definitely the watered-down version. It was the “my mama knows about this, so we can only do so much” type of party.

Here was the scene.

Me & The Crew At The Party

My mother had to work, and before she left, she gave me all the rules. You already know the speech.

Don’t have too many people in my house.
Don’t let anybody go in my room.
Don’t tear up nothing.
Don’t have nobody acting crazy.
And whatever else mothers say when they already know you are probably going to try something.

Then she left one of my older brothers in charge.

So naturally, I was like, Cool.

In my teenage mind, that meant I had just enough room to pull off a little something. Not too much. Just enough.

A few of my homegirls and I decided we were going to do this thing right. Back then, Contempo was the place. If you know, you know. We went and got ourselves matching outfits like we were about to perform on somebody’s stage.

We had these tight blue jeans that zipped on the sides from the top all the way down to the bottom. We wore them with basic fitted white T-shirts like we were a girl group getting ready for our big debut.

And of course, we made up a dance.

Because what was a party without a planned routine? We had practiced and everything. We were ready. In our minds, we were about to shut the whole party down in my mama’s dining room.

I invited everybody I could think of from school and around the way. I was not playing. If I knew you, you probably got invited. If I liked you, you definitely got invited. If you were part of the neighborhood scene, you were probably somewhere in the mix.

Now, for this post, I will not use everybody’s real names. But if they read this, they will know exactly who they are.

Before the party, my girl TJ got in trouble. Her mother told her she could not come.

Now, me and my other homegirl Cyn were like, Girl, you cannot miss this party.

So what did TJ do?

She snuck over.

Because back then, that is what friends did. We gave bad advice with full confidence. We were not thinking about consequences. We were thinking about music, outfits, dancing, and who was going to show up.

The party got started, and we danced like my mama’s dining room was the club. I mean, we were in there living our best teenage lives. No bills. No real responsibilities. Just music, friends, and the kind of laughter that makes your stomach hurt.

My girl V was there too. Now, V and I are still ride or die to this day. That is my girl for real. I found out the next day that she had messed up her ankle at the party.

That still cracks me up.

And no, her ankle did not get jacked up from one of them “legs on the wall” DV8 party nights. That is a whole different story for another day, y’all. Trust me, we are going to have to come back to that one. 😂

Anyway, the party was going good until somebody came and told us there was a woman outside asking if TJ was in the house.

We already knew.

It was TJ’s mama.

And she was not happy.

I went to the door trying to look innocent, knowing good and well I was guilty by association. She looked at me and said something like, “Latwanya, where she at?”

And what did I do?

I lied.

Of course I lied.

I told her TJ did not come to the party.

Meanwhile, TJ was the back, making her escape like she was in an action movie. She was trying to get home before her mama got back there and confirmed what she already knew.

Her mama was standing at the door going off.

She was yelling for TJ to come out. I kept trying to convince her that TJ was not there, but let’s be real. She knew I was lying. Mothers always know. They may not have all the details, but they know enough.

Then she yelled something like, “TJ, I’m gonna kick your ass when you get home!”

And we laughed.

I know that sounds terrible now, but back then, we laughed and went right back to partying. That was teenage logic. Somebody’s mama was outside mad, somebody was sneaking out the back, and we were still trying to keep the music going.

The party did not last too long after that because my brother ended up getting into it with his girlfriend. Somehow, my mother found out, and once that happened, the party was over.

Done.

Shut down.

Lights on.

Everybody out.

But even though it ended early, we still had fun. The homies came through. People were still hanging around outside in the front yard. It was one of those nights that probably seemed small at the time, but when you look back on it, it becomes a whole little movie in your memory.

We were young. We were loud. We were silly. We were bold. We were sneaky. And we were having so much fun.

That song this morning reminded me of all of that.

It reminded me of Contempo outfits, side-zip jeans, white T-shirts, made-up dances, friends sneaking out, mothers yelling from the front door, and my mama’s dining room turning into the club for one unforgettable night.

And let me tell you something else about me.

My taste in music has always had what I call a ratchet side. I can be professional, responsible, educated, and grown all day long, but every now and then, something kicks in, and I go straight into gangsta rap mode.

It just happens.

One minute I am driving to work like a mature adult, and the next minute a song comes on, and suddenly I am back in my teenage years, remembering who I was, who I ran with, what we wore, where we went, and how much fun we had before life got so serious.

As today’s youth say, we listen, and we don’t judge.

So yes, my house party was on, y’all.

Enjoy the music.

This playlist is for the girl I was back then, the one in the side-zip jeans, dancing in her mama’s dining room, thinking she was grown, and making memories she would still be laughing about years later.