A Place To Hang Our Mullet

We spent most of the eighties in diapers, but we’ve still got a profound appreciation for the finer things of the decade: dial telephones, pre-tantric Sting, the mixtape. Seems we’re not alone in our wannabe-retro interest, as the BBC Magazine (who knew?) is suddenly getting all up in the eighties grill, making the argument that the buildings that have sucked the most in recent years–One Poultry, MI6–are actually doing it on purpose. It’s, you know, all referential and shit. We’re pretty much sold on postmodernism because, as far as we can see, you can do pretty much anything you want, no matter how nasty, and totally get away with it. Which is just how we like to roll.