this side up.


The day John Hughes died my entire childhood flashed before my eyes. It sounds dramatic, I know, but movies are dramatic. And maybe I’m a little dramatic. And maybe I know just too many lines from John Hughes movies by heart, and I couldn’t get them out of my head.

Growing up in the 1980s, a childhood filled with Hughes’s genius, I was shocked and confused when there weren’t movie marathons after he passed away. I expected to turn on some cable network and see nothing but Molly Ringwald and John Candy and Anthony Michael Hall. I’m still a bit pissed about it.

As a little girl, his movies made me want to be a teenager - so I could go to prom and take driver’s ed and get skip school and get detention and meet a boy like Ferris Bueller. I still want to meet a boy like Ferris Bueller.


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