Wicker, big hair and moustaches

Tom Selleck is the only man in the world who can pull off a moustache without looking like he belongs on the H.M.S. Pinafore. I loved Thomas Magnum, PI as a little girl, I loved Richard on Friends, and now I'm loving Magnum again, thanks to the forever-70s-and-80s universe that is satellite television.
We watched the first-ever episode of Magnum PI this week--a two-parter that explored his tortured past in Vietnam and his bizarre caretaker role on mystery writer Robin Master's oceanfront estate. I don't think I ever got his motivation as a kid; I just liked watching him tooling around in TC's helicopter and swatting away the girls with that who-am-I-kidding grin. Anyway, I think Selleck grew into his role--or perhaps I was a generous viewer, cos the acting was pretty crapola. But I was also a devotee of The A-Team and Dukes of Hazzard. It was all about the adventure for me.
I also studied the women in these programs for clues as to what adulthood held for me. Given that the ladies were pretty much there to scream, fall for the men's charms--often against their will--and look sexy, I didn't have a lot of scope. And because I also loved the more ambitious Wonder Woman--pilot, heroine and lingerie model--I was most interested in the sexy. I developed a passion for blue eye shadow, gold chains, big fluffy hair, plastic bangles, high-heeled sandals, and deep Coppertone tans. I envisioned womanhood as involving a lot of personal maintenance (manicures, aerobics, drinking diet shakes) and afternoons spent in an apartment with an ocean view, wicker furniture and framed 1920s advertising prints on the walls, waiting for Magnum or similar to turn up and give me something to do. As I "matured" in second and third grades, I wanted to be a secretary by day/lounge singer by night, so I could wear stilettos and file important documents from 9 to 5 then, after work, don false eyelashes and sparkly dresses and drink multicolored cocktails garnished with little umbrellas and fruit skewered on plastic swords.
Life turned out very differently, of course, and thank heavens for that. I still like paper, although I collect piles of it and lose it, rather than file it. I can't wear stilettos and blue eyeshadow has been out and in and out again, but with my coloring it's just not a realistic option. My hair won't fluff and it looks stupid big. I hate wicker and own not one lounge singer-style dress. Turns out I can't sing. But I still love Magnum and my heart still speeds just a little when I hear the theme song and watch TC's helicopter swoop down over the ocean off Oahu.
And I still like the 'tache