smells like teen spirit

I’m Miss World. I’m not anymore, actually, but I used to be. So many of us used to be, circa 1994, in our lacy slip dresses, torn fishnets or cut-off army shorts. It only takes one verse of a Hole, Bikini Kill or Veruca Salt song to transport me back to that time, that age, those clothes, with that mix of angst, anger and joyous female rebellion.