Gen Xers like me love this classic ’80s movie, but its profound message comes through even stronger now

At age 9, I pulled my mother’s polka-dot turtleneck over my legs and tied my arms around my small waist like a belt. Growing up, I often turned my mother’s clothes into strange fashion items. I was also a natural redhead, always the only one in my class, and had few redheaded role models. The ones I did have, like Pippi Longstocking and Anne of Green Gables, were characters who had a defining trait that I recognized: eccentricity.

They had agency over their individuality. But I struggled to make mine feel like a strength rather than a flaw. When I was a little girl, I begged my mom to let me dye my hair blonde.

“Don’t you know that women pay to dye your hair?” she snorted. My shiny hair made me stand out. What I wanted then was to blend in with everyone else.

That is, until I watched “Pretty in Pink” and began to understand that the things that made me different had more power than I thought. As Andy Walsh, Molly Ringwald played a girl I recognized. I was several years younger, but I identified with the wavy redhead misfit, with freckles like mine and an unapologetic style. Eleven years before Cher chose her outfit from a computer program and pulled it out of a rotating closet in “Clueless,” Andy practiced a similar, more relatable ritual. She appears on screen wearing a dark vest over a white lace blouse, a belted pencil skirt, a cameo necklace, and socks over stockings.

“$15 for the shoes, secondhand, I made the rest,” he responds when his dad marvels at his “latest creation” and wonders about the cost. At school, his outcast best friend Duckie (who has a unique style with a bolero tie and jacket) affectionately calls his outfit a “volcanic outfit.” But the same outfit is later ridiculed in class by the rich and popular blonde girl.

Andy captivated me. She was cool and nonconformist, and was friends with her eccentric older boss, Ilona, ​​the owner of the Trax Record Store, which had its own funky, ever-changing look. But Andy struggled to fit in with his wealthier classmates and sought to find his place. It’s a belonging we strive for throughout our lives and a recurring theme in John Hughes films, including “The Breakfast Club” and “Sixteen Candles.” Embracing the truest version of yourself is ultimately the message of “Pretty in Pink.”

Growing up, my single mother worked overtime to send me to private school. I had the privilege of being there. However, I still compared myself to other students and friends with apartments and lifestyles that paled in comparison to mine.

When Andy falls for Blane (Andrew McCarthy, at his best), a rich, preppy and handsome student at her school, butterflies and embarrassment flare up. On their first date, an argument ensues when she admits that she doesn’t want him to see her at home. Unlike Andy, I wasn’t ashamed of where I lived. New York City’s East Village, just a few blocks from my school, was not “on the wrong side of the tracks” at all. But I recognized Andy’s reflex of separating herself from others by magnifying what made her different.

Years later, and now single, I drew similar parallels with dating. I preemptively considered myself too eccentric for Blane-type men. I was a Jewish redhead who wore tutus with T-shirts and sneakers. What would that kind of guy want from me? I undermined my self-esteem instead of leading with confidence.

Differences in social construction, class, and culture also kept Andy and Blane in separate corners of the world. But when they meet and connect, the foundations of those barriers and preconceived notions are torn down. Breaking the labels set by each other was an act not only of love, but also of courage.

Photo by Bonnie Schiffman via Getty Images

Andy Walsh was the first time I saw myself in a character. She gave me validation that, as a teenager, it was imperative. For once, the redhead was not just the brave companion, defined solely by her fighting nature. She was a layered (though yes, still eccentric) protagonist who was independent, but also craved affection and attention. Of the suitor Blane, her alcoholic single father, and Duckie, whose unrequited love bothers her, but she is unwilling to let it go or acknowledge it.

I idolized the teenager’s personality, taking inspiration from how she created her fashion and the bravery with which she displayed it. Even that controversial final party dress. As a teenager, I was incessantly searching for costume jewelry, lace-up booties, and clothes to deconstruct.

When I was 20, alone after long nights of partying, I fell asleep to my “Pretty in Pink” DVD every weekend. The flickering glow of the screen and the iconic, turned-down New Wave soundtrack were like my own comforting sound machine.

Andy’s refusal to bend to social norms and the popular, rich Steff (a young James Spader who plays sleaze to perfection) made her real and brave. When Blane succumbs to Steff’s pressure and doesn’t want to take Andy to prom, she attends alone. Of course, the two are reunited with a passionate kiss in the final moments of the film. “Pretty in Pink” is a classic romantic comedy, but it’s also a story about being brave enough to find love and validation within yourself.

For me and others who followed their path, Andy, Duckie and Ilona were models for accepting each other’s eccentricities. Watching them lean into their differences made me believe I could do the same and started me on the winding path of self-acceptance.

I once believed that fitting in was more beneficial than being original. Now, at 45 years old and a new mother, I know that uniqueness should be highlighted, not hidden. I finally found my own Prince Charming. Someone whose predilections toward the strange matched mine like a puzzle piece.

For the 40th anniversary, “Pretty in Pink” returned to theaters for three days, to the delight of Generation X everywhere. The re-release includes a short documentary from director Howard Deutch. Acclaimed music, including Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark’s hit “If You Leave,” is also being celebrated with a vinyl reissue.

Forty years later, being weird is more universal. People display their quirks for everyone to see on a daily basis. Red hair is less exclusive and women pay for spray-on freckles. It’s a reminder that the film’s message—going against the grain is one of the bravest things you can do—is more timely than ever.

It’s something I hope to one day teach my almost 2 year old daughter too. If your favorite hobby (wearing my pink beret and oversized scarves and necklaces) There is some indication, she is on the right path.

This essay is part of News’s “This Made Me” series, a collection of pop culture stories that move us.