Yes, I have a slight obsession with My Little Pony.
I mean, what is not to love about them? They look like ponies - my favourite fluffy animal after puppies - but on acid, they have a baby dragon for a pet and they think that friendship is magic!
This obsession have been ongoing for a long time. I believe it all started circa 1989 when my parents got me my first plastic pony with giant eyelashes, even more gigantic eyes and a pink mane that turned blue when you poured water on it. I was in love and continued down the route of Bridal Ponies, Flutter Ponies and Baby Ponies. Not to mention the pink Pony Dream Castle, the pink bejwelled carriages, the pink pony hair brushes and the pink furniture for the Dream Castle. My playroom was an explosion of pink plastic cuteness and probably every feminist mother's worse nightmare.
I also believe that the MLP obession slowly turned into another mother's worst nightmare, seeing that after 4000 odd views of My Little Pony - The Movie, that VHS tape mysteriously disappeared. I suspect my mother was not as fascinated and concerned with the blue clay monster killing the rainbow and leaving Flutterville in ruins as I was at age 5. Thankfully, Youtube has been invented since and my mother can't hide that behind an encyclopaedia.
I don't still have my pony figurines - even I have limitations as far as my immaturity and borderline insanity goes. I have however spent years of my nieces' childhood buying them large quantities of My Little Ponies, primarily so that I can play with them myself. They even have Pony Cinemas in the 4th generation!
With this former obsession with these psuchedelic creatures - surely I'm not asking for too much trying to find myself a t-shirt honouring it?
The world seems to think so. It's been an almost 10 year long hunt for this damn t-shirt and it's nowhere to be found. I have the Superman, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Bam Bam, Popeye and Super Ted t-shirts, but apparentlhy the retail industry are not as willing to give friendly and peaceful ponies any attention.
Until this sunny afternoon on Oxford Street. As I entered Primark under loud protests due to Sis-In-Law's urgent need for a cheap festival outfit, there she was. Pinkie Pie on turqoise cotton in the middle of the store that I normally refer to as Polyester Hell. And she was on sale. Poor Pinkie Pie being pimped out for spare change.
Primark - I will never pick on you and call you names again! This week.
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| Wrinkly and abused at Primark - now adopted into a caring home! |
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