In the late 90s, the Spice Girls were pretty much my life. That, wearing as much Tommy Hilfiger as possible, and nearly dying of mortification the day we got our samples of feminine hygiene products. (Yes, that’s what I remember most from the 5th grade.)
For as refined as one’s music taste can be at that age, I thought I had it figured out. Having graduated from my over-played cassette tape of Mariah Carey, I was excited to jump into the world that was CDs. And who better to do it with than the time’s best pop stars? I was all about Hanson, even more about the Backstreet Boys (whom I will soon see in the flesh), and iffy about *NSYNC – which was basically a non-perfected version Justin Timberlake and crew. (Also, that whole “the last letter of our first names spells *NSYNC” thing made them seem SO desperate. Pre-teen me was like, “You’ve sold millions of records, guys. Get a grip.”) I was also an avid watcher of S Club 7’s TV show. But when it came down to made-for-profit British bands, none had my heart quite like these five spicy women.
Seriously, what wasn’t there to love? Each had a specialty, ranging from working out to loving pigtails, giving us all the girl power that was ever needed. For every non-tomboy out there, there was a different, fashion-loving girl to latch onto instead. (Which is why my friends and I dressed up as them for Halloween roughly four years in a row.) Pair the allure of girl power with an unlimited supply of platform shoes and songs that are so catchy you can’t even force them out of your head, and it was a recipe for tween-made heaven.
And just like fellow 80s child Emma Stone, I couldn’t get enough. So much so, that to this day, all of their songs are my favorite. All of them are my favorite. And why has no one made a Spice Girls museum yet? I NEED to tour their Spice World travel bus. Just thinking about it makes me want to pop in their CD, and zone out in a beanbag chair while feeding my Tamagotchi. Like I never gave up on the good times.