Let me first just say that Nick Cage and that insufferable "duh" expression do not seem to to deserve the absolute rapt enchantment on Deborah Foreman (aka Julie Richmond)'s face. Does she think she's looking at a Rick Springfield poster?
When I was still teetering around on my Strawberry Shortcake training wheels,the blonde high school girl across the street had a pink-lighted dressing-table mirror, a ruffly white canopy bed and a boyfriend with a black Camaro. I used to watch her skip out of the garage and hop in that shuddering charcoal machine, headed for uncertain destinations and mysterious teenage dalliances.
The bouncy 1983 flick Valley Girl is deliciously nostalgic like that; as pop-culturally-fascinating as Sloane Peterson's white fringed leather jacket (I so coveted that thing) and those over-the-top Can't Buy Me Love house parties (speaking of white fringed leather apparel - is this a pattern?).
Deborah Foreman is Julie Richmond, in pastel sweaters, a teeny red bikini, mirrored sunglasses and that universally unflattering early-80s shag haircut. (Sue Ellen Ewing, anyone?) She has hippie parents and snobby friends who hang out at sleepovers in their underwear. The underwear is, of course, cute, and no one is scary-thin. Ruffles and Oreos are eaten, Modern English and Men at Work are played. Julie wears a Jessica McClintock dress to the prom - remember those? - and there is, obviously, plenty of Moon Zappa-esque Val-speak. I could watch the movie for an undetermined amount of repeats; it's like a hot-pink, glittery valentine to the 80s.
I have no idea where Ms. Foreman is now, but she needs to finagle a comeback. Like fer sure.
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