Being In The World of Duran

 I have been asked what, exactly, what is it that Duran Duran does for me? The answer is complex, because being a Duranie often means so much more than enjoying the music, though that in itself is a significant experience. I believe that I speak for many Duranies when I describe being in the world of Duran Duran as something of a safe place to be; not unlike the feeling of belonging in a spiritual home.

 With the 80s came a sense of excitement with newness. New bands and new sounds were embraced, analyzed, scrutinized, and picked apart by us children and teenagers who sought the perfect form of art to define our own senses of being. Being an adolescent is a difficult time and we were ready to be swept off our feet and allow music and art to be our safe place. Duran Duran sought us out,  took us by storm, and became that very place.

 We had never heard anything like it before. It resonated with us on a level that we never knew existed and it became that safe place in both sight and sound that we could hide inside. Seeing videos, hearing songs, internalizing the art associated with different songs, and collecting memorabilia all became an experience in itself, materializing into an escape of sorts. When things in life went bad, we could tune in and duck inside, even if just for a while, and things didn't seem so bad for the time being. I tend to think of the experience of safety as an invisible cloak of comfort, activated with a magic that only Duran Duran can conjure.

 Years later, Duranies can hear a Duran Duran song, or spot a picture of the band, or somehow otherwise experience a Duran Duran memory, and a piece of these Duranies will go back and touch on a bit of the safe place that was built back in the mid-80s. Here we are, 30-some years later, and the resonating sound of Duran Duran, both old and new, still takes us back to that adolescent time where the core of us was unsure and worried, but the familiar cloak of Duran safety would give our shoulder a slight squeeze for assurance.

 There is one place, however, that instead of us stepping back into a piece of that Duran era, a piece of that Duran era is brought to us.

 I have mentioned in previous posts my friend, Durandy (aka Andrew Golub,) and his amazing collection of Duran Duran memorabilia that he refers to as "The Archives." Anyone who has experienced Duranieism the way I described above would experience the incredible rush of the Duran world if they should ever visit Durandy's amazing collection. During my visits to The Archive, I have experienced a wide variety of emotions ranging from laughter to tears. Looking through posters, magazine clippings, pins, books, etc., I relived my walk through my life as a Duranie, remembering where I was at certain times when I heard this song, bought that album, or wore a Duran Duran T-shirt. Many hours of my life vanished in a matter of minutes there as I allowed the essence of Duran Duran to consume my very being as it had many years ago.

 Durandy has been very generous to open up his world to many who wish to share in it, but of course, because of the volume of Duranies there are in the world, it is impossible to invite them all inside. This is unfortunate, because this is something that all deserving Duranies should be able to experience.

 However, Durandy very cleverly took a piece of the magic from his archives to share with Duranies around the world by placing it in a book. Made out of a labor of love, his book, "Beautiful Colors (The Posters of Duran Duran)," is an adventure through time starting with the very earliest promotional posters on to the present. Each page is splashed with color and love, containing the very magic that can bring Duranies to the safe place carved out of our adolescence with the music and art that resonated with us Duranies in the most intimate of ways. "Beautiful Colors" transports us through past and present, taking us through our own personal journeys as the band itself is chronicled through its varying images over time. It is a journey that all deserving Duranies should take.


Beautiful Colors (The Posters of Duran Duran)

 Living and loving in the Duran world does something wonderful for me. Something close to sacred. I grow strong in the present while taking comfort in the familiarity of the band that I have loved for a long time. "Beautiful Colors" is a glowing example of the way Duranies can do just that. As I said before, being in the world of Duran is not unlike the feeling of belonging in a spiritual home.

 Not unlike...

a New Religion.

Fan of a Fan

The music of Duran Duran saw me through my late childhood and teen years. It was a tool to help celebrate the good things and a comfort when things were bad. It was a lot of comfort. I surrounded myself with music, posters, and other artifacts of my teen loves (mostly consisting of DD.)

Then I grew up, got married, and lived happily ever after. Okay, the "got married" part was true. The other two parts are still in the making.

I had mentioned in an earlier post that my first marriage was an abusive one. Being very shy, fearful, and having low self-esteem leading me to believe I couldn't do better than this, I meekly took his berating and allowed him to destroy the things that made me happy. This included my Duran Duran collection.

He let me keep my records, but only because I convinced him that many of them were collectibles and were worth a lot of money, should I sell them someday, but I wasn't allowed to listen to them. The same goes for my DD pins. They were "collectibles" but I couldn't wear them. He never knew about my DD earrings. He once caught me singing a DD song to the baby. The fight after that was worse than P.E. in junior high.

Because he liked the movie Labyrinth, he let me listen to some David Bowie, but he became angry when I tried telling him that DD music is influenced by Bowie and therefore similar. I gave up. DD was to be a thing of the past and I was to focus on the man I married. Period.




Emotionally, spiritually, and mentally, I was worn down to a nub. With the exception of my kids, much of my world was ice.




Seven years later, I reached the point that I had had enough. I grew a pair and kicked his butt out.



I had a new delivery driving job at the time and I tuned in to an 80s station. It was like visiting old friends. They played everything from that beloved decade!

The best part of the station wasn't even the songs, though. There were regular listeners who called in and some of them called regularly. They were a hoot! Regular listeners got to know these callers almost like family.

There was one caller in particular that I seriously could not believe. He called himself Durandy and gave flavorful monologues about his love for Duran Duran. His descriptions of love were beautiful, even sensual.

At first, I was pissed. I thought that he was making fun of Durannies. How dare he! If he didn't like Duran Duran, he didn't need to belittle those who did!

But over time, it became apparent to me that Durandy was for real. His raves for his beloved band were genuine and I found myself appreciating his almost daily calls to the station.

Durandy became a bit of a local celebrity because of his delightful fascination with Duran Duran. His collection of memorabilia surpasses one of an average fan of his/her favorite band. He has a large storage containing posters, books, magazine articles, etc.

Durandy's collection was good for me. Although I have never met Durandy, much less even saw his collection, it was reassuring for me to know that it was possible for one to hold so tightly to a teenage comfort and still move through adulthood. He was not swayed to abandon Duran Duran the way I was. His passion lived through my years of stasis. It was as if he kept the dream alive for me!

I am now close to 40. My passion for Duran Duran is rekindled but not to the level that burned during my teen years. My collection still consists of some records, CDs, pins, and earrings. That is okay, though. I'm happy just to be able to listen to what I want and enjoy the memories of the fire without the fear of getting burned.

Thank You Durandy for keeping a torch lit through the decades. You are an inspiration.

80s Music Still Makes Me Smile

Hi. My name is Julie and I'm a Duranie.

The 80s was a fun time for music. Making a hit didn't require knowing how to play an instrument (though it sometimes helped) but there was so much room on the canvas of pop-culture for originality, freshness, and plain weirdness that just somehow worked.

Although I did not closely follow fashion trends, watch every movie, or even talk valley-girl, the 80s molded my very being. My nightly friend was KPLZ 101.5 FM. BOP and Tiger Beat magazines supplied me with wallpaper adorned with sultry eyes that watched me put on neon pink socks and pour peroxide in my hair. My headphones crooned me to sleep at night with Duran Duran, David Bowie, or Billy Idol cranked up all the way.

However, I have since grown up. 101.5 usually plays unfamiliar stuff. John Taylor's bedroom eyes are no longer in my bedroom. I wear boring socks. Peroxide is used for medical purposes only. My ears stay uncovered in case the kids should need me in the night. But I still have my picture disks!

In spite of my removal from childhood, I still like the music. I have all sorts of bits of 80s music trivia memorized. After listening to a few seconds of an 80s song on an "oldies" station I can usually identify the song and artist. My husband seems impressed with my odd storage of information.

This blog is largely about my fascination with the 80s era, how it affected me, and how my ideas and beliefs evolved. Those who find my posts interesting might still own a picture disk or two themselves.