The Macarena

Image via atomicballroom.com

Fourteen weeks. Fourteen weeks. That's how long the Macarena held the top spot on the Billboard music charts. Fourteen weeks. That's three and a half months of non-stop Latin-beat line dancing. Not only was the song number one, it was everywhere. It was like an airborne contagion, only with a whole lot more butt-shaking. Weddings, bar mitzvahs, middle school dances; you name the venue, people were out there Macarena-ing their hearts out. They didn't care what the words were or where it came from. Most of them were just grateful to have pre-choreographed moves.

As far as dance crazes go, the Macarena verged on phenomenon status. It swept through the country and the world, though no one seems to know just how it got so popular or how everyone learned the dance. In an age before everyone had high-speed internet, every person between the ages of 5 and 95 seemed to have the Macarena down pat. Never mind that nowadays people have to watch step-by-step how-to videos on how to do the Soulja Boy dance on YouTube at least ten times before getting it down pat. Back in the 90s, dance trends may have been infectious, but they didn't spread virally.



Most of us can't pinpoint exactly when or where or how we learned it, we just all miraculously knew the appropriate times to jump a 180 degree turn counterclockwise in unison. There was something strangely hypnotizing about its repetitiveness. We know longer had to fear the dance floor, wondering when the appropriate moment was to switch from the shopping cart to the lawn mower. We just simply did the exact same routine over and over and over again. It was a relatively foolproof system, though limited skill dancers admittedly may have struggled a bit awkwardly with the pelvic swivels.

It all started way back in 1992 when Los del Rio unleashed their insanely catchy song onto a crowd of unsuspecting VIP Venezuelans. Though the song went through all sorts of tweaks and changes before turning into the dance craze we recognize today, it was that tiny spark of interest that launched a million hip swivels. The original was of course in full Spanish, with, well, interesting lyrics to say the least. That is, the lyrics were completely strange. Just totally, utterly, derangedly odd.

The original Spanish version went a little something like this. Okay, okay, exactly like this:




For those of you out there who do not speak Spanish (myself included), fear not. With the help of the trusty (well, kind of trusty) interwebs, I have tracked down what I can only assume to be an accurate translation. Correct me if I'm wrong, but here goes:


Give your body pleasure, Macarena
Because your body is for giving it pleasure and good things
Give your body pleasure, Macarena
Ehhhh, Macarena
Macarena has a boyfriend whose name is
Whose last name is Vitorino
And during his military swearing in
She got together with two of his friends
Macarena, Macarena, Macarena
Who likes the summers of Marbella
Macarena, Macarena, Macarena
Who likes the guerrilla lifestyle
Macarena dreams of the Corte Ingles (High-class dept. store)
And she likes the most recent fashions
She'd like to live in New York
And trap a new boyfriend


Stop right there. I mean, hold the phone. They might as well be describing me. I love the guerrilla lifestyle. I just adore it. And don't even get me started on the most recent fashions. No wonder we liked the song so much; even if we didn't understand the words, we may have just subconsciously been drawn to such a relatable character as this Macarena chick.

Needless to say, ethnocentric English-speakers required a watered-down version for our own understanding pleasure, so they came up with the following:



Now that is what I am talking about. That was most definitely the version I had blaring from my 90s-era Sony boom box. In case you didn't catch it, it goes a little something like this:

When I dance they call me Macarena
And the boys, they say que soy buena
They all want me, they can't have me
So they come and dance beside me
Move with me, chant with me
And if you're good, I'll take you home with me.

Yeah, that's it. Let's chant together. Oh, that is hot. Are you into Gregorian?

Now don't you worry about my boyfriend
The boy whose name is Vitorino
I don't want him, couldn't stand him
He was no good, so I...ha,ha,ha,ha,ha

Now come on, what was I supposed to do?
He was out of town and his two friends were soooooo fine.

Hey, what happened to Vitorino's military swearing-in ceremony? We couldn't fit that one there, eh?


Come and find me, my name is Macarena
Always at the the party con las chicas que soy buena
Come join me, dance with me
And you fellows chant along with me.
Move with me, chant with me
And if you're good, I'll take you home with me.


Okay, so this version is lacking a bit in the high-end department store/guerrilla warfare categories, but I think you get the general idea.

This handy diagram is great for practicing for 90s theme parties.

Anyway, just try to tell me that the dancers in the remix video are not the prototypical 90s girls. The hairstyles. The clothing. The multiculturalism. The mutliculturalism part is key, too. Because you know what the Macarena does? That's right, it brings cultures together. Forget complicated treaties and trade embargoes, just give us the Macarena and we'll be dancing together in no time. We're not really so different, all of us. We all do the Macarena one arm at a time.

Fanny Packs

Fanny pack. Bum bag. Hip pack. No matter what you called it, if you grew up in the 90s it's likely that you or one of your camera-toting tourist family members was guilty of owning one. No matter which attraction-filled city you happened to occupy, if there were sights to be seen then a full family sporting a rainbow of fanny pack styles and colors couldn't be far behind.

To be fair, fanny packs were indeed functional clothing. They gave a whole new and deeper meaning to the phrase "Look Ma, no hands!" That's right, it was the original hands-free style. A decade before all of those bluetooth-wearing tools were out tooling it up in their tool sheds, they roamed the streets with an earlier prototype. It was the ultimate choice of function over form. There will always be a sizable contingency out there who swears that aesthetics are irrelevant in making wardrobe selections. I respect if you are one of those people. Well, so long as you recognize that you are totally, completely, consummately wrong. A small concession, really, in allowing you to still wear a pack on your fanny. Because honestly. That's ridiculous.




People seemed generally unperturbed by the notion of adding an oddly-shaped zippered lump to their, ahem, private region. You know, what Jack Donaghy would call it your "swimsuit area". It's certainly worthy of further examination as suspicious behavior. Who knows what you're hiding behind there? Never mind, I don't want to know. Just promise me you'll never unzip it in my presence.

Whether it was a class trip or family vacation, fanny packs became inexplicable storage staples of our 90s wardrobes. I suppose the concept makes some sense, as carrying a backpack or a back-pocket waller inevitably leads to Oliver Twist style pick-pocketry. After all, it's an important lesson to teach kids. Trust no one. Everyone is out to get you at all times and are probably after your soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich and your souvenir I Heart NY keychain. Thieves go crazy for that stuff. Really. It drives them wild.

As someone whose parents made her buy one of those under-the-shirt necklace-style passport holders for her first trip abroad, I can certainly appreciate your desire to protect your personal belongings. Or, at the very least, your parents' desire for you to do so. It was more the placement of the accessory that I took issue with. It is universally unflattering, and thus should be shunned by all.

Don't get me wrong. I owned a fanny pack. Oh yeah. A bright, multi-color masterpiece with numerous compartments and zip closures. It clicked together with that satisfying snap! every time I fastened it to my waist and it was pure perfection. My lower waist area had never looked so ornamental. I loved that thing. Really, I did. I'm not embarrassed to admit it. Okay, well I'm not that embarrassed. Well I admitted it, didn't I? That should at least count for something.

At the very least, these things were versatile in their styling. We all knew the different fanny pack methodology to maximize our 90s look. Your fanny packing style* said quite a bit about your personal character. Wear it to the front and we knew you were a straightforward kind of guy, a no-frills, no-muss no-fuss person simply looking for a bodily-latched vessel to transport their keys.

Please do not purchase this. Seriously. I'm looking at you. Don't encourage others.

Wear it to the side, however, and we knew you were sort of, well, a gangster. In the way only fanny pack wearers can be. That is to say, you were most likely white, middle class, and reared in suburbia but dammit you loved rap videos and there was nothing anyone could do to stop you. It usually meant your parents weren't willing to risk their block party reputation by buying you some crazy colored hat you could leave the tags dangling on, but they were willing to spring for an educational trip to Washington DC. Hey, it's some consolation, isn't it?

The most perplexing wearers, however, were those that wore it slung to the back. Yes, I can understand if you're riding a bike** it may be a sort of useful positioning, but it's generally inexcusable as street wear. That is to say, the main argument for wearing a fanny pack tends to fall in the keep-people-from-stealing-your-stuff category. Your rebel without a cause devil-may-care fanny pack attitude is not ironic, it just shows that you're an irresponsible fanny pack wearer certain to fall victim to identity theft. Either that, or you're really, really embarrassed and are trying to convince everyone who meets you from the front that it's just a belt. Those of us who can see you from the back though, we know the truth. You can rotate but you can't hide.

Unfortunately, this was not the last we saw of fanny packs. Certain designers (I'm looking at you, Gucci) felt it necessary to revive the so-called fashion statement in the last few years, releasing an alleged "belt bag" that was nothing more than a glorified logo-emblazoned fanny pack. We're onto your tricks, high-end designers, and we're not going to fall for them. Either make a belt or make a bag, for for all our retina's sake, don't try for both.

Don't even think about it.

*I beg you to just let the double entendre go. Really. I recognize it too, and it is mildly hilarious. But let's all be adults here. Right?

**I mean you, not me. I will never ride a bike again. I loathe bikes for their cruel bone-breaking antics, and I believe fanny packs as cycling gear to be the just and rightful punishment for their menacing society. Not just for breaking my ankle, but also for acting like you're a car when I'm trying to drive in my actual car. I don't care if you're wearing neon spandex, you don't belong in my turn lane. Did I mention I'm not a big bike fan? I appreciate you reading this tiny, italicized rant. Now go strap on your fanny pack, bike boy.

Troll Dolls

Whose idea was it to have their eyes match their hair on these Treasure Trolls? Really, show yourself. That's probably one of the more frightening things I've ever seen.

When you think troll, what comes to mind? Is it a cute, cuddly, neon-haired pot-bellied figure, or a mythical violent under-bridge dwelling creature a la Three Billy Goats Gruff? If you can't answer it correctly, I'm pretty sure he'll make good on that threat to gobble you up. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Many of us did indeed grow up believing that the word troll was exclusively reserved for these hard plastic Einstein-haired elfin dolls. I didn't know that a troll was supposed to be scary, or mean, or snarly, or a generally unsavory character. I was too busy praying that mine came with a rhinestone belly button.

Troll dolls were originally conceived in the 1960s in Denmark and the first specimens were made of wood, leading us to deduce that the original troll-players were besieged by splinters. This semi-impoverished whittling man unknowingly started a Danish toy craze that quickly spread across the world. Though the general concept and design was based on the Danish woodcarver's prototype, he probably never in his wildest troll-infested dreams foresaw the insane breeds of trolls yet to come.

For instance, I'm willing to bet a fair sum of money that he never, ever had anything in mind even remotely like this when he carved that original little wooden figurine for his daughter:

Russ Troll Kids Ad
Uploaded by a90sfan. - Watch feature films and entire TV shows.

I'm not embarrassed to admit as a child I longed to be in this commercial. I mean, what's better than singing and dancing in a toy store with a group of my troll-hugging peers? It's 90s cheesiness at its very best. That synthesizer in the background in pretty critical too. This has got to be one of the laziest ad campaigns I've ever seen. I understand the notion of a no-frills, gimmick-free commercial, but repeating "Can't stop hugging the troll kids" over and over is verging on neglectful.

But I digress. Trolls went underground for awhile between the 60s and 90s. Not literally, of course. Well, not the toys. The real things, I've heard they tend to do that kind of thing. Where was I? Oh yes, the Troll doll renaissance. The dolls were resurrected in the 90s with a big marketing push. The original trolls, however, just weren't kicking for these 90s children. The dolls were now battling the forces of video games, computers, and other mind-numbing recreational stimuli.

The 90s toy market was highly segmented, with toy manufacturers eager to market simultaneously to kid demographics across the board. Rather than offering one solid product, most toy producers opted to offer innumerable watered-down variations of the original. Hence was the case with trolls, leaving many consumers scratching their heads at some of these Troll releases. Here's a prime example of the ridiculous manifestations of the original:



Yes, you heard correctly. Troll Barbie. They don't explain why or how she's associated with Trolls or why she insists of wearing tufts of their multi-colored hair on her head. She wears pants with cartoon Trolls on them and has a Troll necklace. If you're thinking this makes no sense at all, congratulations. You've outwitted the 90s Mattel advisory board.

Clearly Trolls were a tad on the girly side, leaving toy companies scratching their heads as to how to effectively market these cuddly critters to boys. After all, that's a pretty significant segment of the market going un-Trolled. This is what they came up with:



I've officially changed my mind. This is the quintessential 90s commercial. I'm not exactly sure why they had to go ahead and kill a rustling meadowful of adorable, girl-friendly Trolls in order to prove their point at the beginning. Clearly subtlety was not on their marketing agenda. Not only do they claim these dolls to be "OUT OF CONTROL!", they also end the commercial with a threat: "Collect them before they collect you!" I'm sorry, what? What? That makes. Absolutely. No. Sense. Not even a sliver. I guess they got so caught up in the frenzied fast-paced excitement of the commercial, they forgot to proofread the script.

There was also this lighter male-directed line called Stone Protectors, who were supposedly equally bad-ass but who appeared as cartoons in the ads. They also conveniently come with an arsenal of accessories sure to lift the bills directly from your pockets.



If that wasn't enough to do it for you as a kid, how about some misleading and unverified claims? Treasure Trolls were a serious craze, differentiated from the original on belly button rhinestone detail alone. The commercial, however, leads us to believe that these trolls have magical powers to make all of our wildest dreams come true.



They really wanted to drive the point home, so they also came out with this winner of an ad, showing just how exciting your life could be if only you incorporated Treasure Trolls into your daily existence. This one definitely plays down the questionable Treasure Trolls Answer Your Prayers part, too.



In the spirit of cross-marketing, they also released Troll video games, computer games, and even straight-to-video VHS releases like this one:



Really, just don't ask questions. You'll only strain your brain. If nothing else, retrospection on Trolls shows us just how much toy manufacturers were able to get away with in the 90s. Their many Troll releases were pretty shameless. It's almost as if they simply sat around the board room table, everyone coughed up one marginally absurd idea, and they called it a day. When a brand is elevated to craze status, you can pretty much release whatever you want. Looking back, they may have been a bit silly, but at the time I'd give anything to add to my troll collection. I won't lie to you, I'm still sort of coveting that Troll Barbie. What? The commercial was pretty persuasive.