Valley Girls and Frat Boys: Social Networking in the Eighties

 Because the Internet Was Still Using Training Wheels - a.k.a. "Books."

Before - long before - social media and the sinister Mr. Al Gorithm decided for us which cat videos mattered the most, there was a simpler, louder and decidedly flammabl-er(?) time: the 1980's.

A decade powered by synthesizers, questionable fashion choices, and hair so shellacked you could use it to cut through drywall in a pinch.

It was also the decade that birthed a very specific form of social networking. It didn't require Wi-Fi, a vast army of followers, and didn't even know what public shame was. And it's chief architects?

Valley Girls and Frat Boys.

 Two tribes, dos vibes. But one unified goal: look totally rad and pretend you don't care who who's watching (even though you, like, totally did.)

This wasn't 'networking' as we know it now.

This was networking through proximity, copping a 'tude, and just  the right amount of aerosol to melt a medium-sized iceberg.

That's right! We're delving into the era of influencing in analog.

The Original Influencers: Valley Girls

The digital age we know now has TikTok teens.

The 80's had Valley Girls - prototype influencers whose whole brand was wrapped up un the phrase, "Oh my gosh, like, duh." They lived in shopping malls and spoke in a dialect that sounded like a bizarre mixture of helium, falsetto singing, and the sound a credit card makes when it has a nervous breakdown.

But make no mistake. These women were actually running the earliest, and possibly most sophisticated version of the algorithm.

Want attention? Wear clothing in colors of neon so bright that the World Health Organization sees an uptick of 33% in the reporting of migraine sufferers.

Want engagement? Say "gag me with a spoon" in a food court with enough vinegar to strip paint and loud enough to be heard three malls away. Watch heads turn like you just leaked a Backstreet Boys single.

Want followers? Just start walking. In that over-exaggerated fashion that makes you look like you're purposefully trying to dislocate your hips. For some reason still unknown to science, people would just start trailing behind you like you were the pied piper of leg warmers.

Their aesthetic was curated. Big hair, sonar-bangs, and lipstick colors previously only seen on tropical fish.

Every outfit was a post.

Every lap around each level of the mall was content.

Every utterance of "like, totally" was a successful push notification.

And the mall? Wow!

That, my friends, was the original Instagram. But instead of filters, there was an exuberance of fluorescent lighting designed by Satan.

The Frat Boys: Spam Bots With Pecs

Then, on the opposite end of the social spectrum, but somehow still in the same tax bracket of chaos, lived the Frat Boys.

Fratticus Nevagrowupigus

Brosapiens Maximus.

Shirt: optional. Beer: mandatory. Decibel level: health violation.

They were NOT influencers; they were spam bots. Loud, on constant repeat, useful on the rare occasion you needed a keg lifted, but designed purposefully to crash systems.

Frat Boys only went to college for three reasons:

1- Parties

2 - After-Party Parties

3 - Getting a degree, but only if earning it was attainable by showing up hungover to class and answering every question the professor asked with, "Uhh, Reagan?"

Their version of social networking was simple: if it moved, they talked to it. If it didn't move, they yelled at it until it did. That's how coffee makers with timers were invented.

They had friend-making software, but there were numerous bugs:

- Yelling "BROOOOO!" across crowded public spaces.

- Shotgunning beers with total strangers, then calling them 'dude' in a way that implied excellent feelings and gnarly bro-forces, man.

- Wearing shorts in the winter to show off the impressive musculature that comes from a keg-lifting-based exercise regimen.

So, you could say frat houses were basically the Pre-Twitter: loud, confusing, unnecessarily hostile to nerds, and nobody knew where anyone was or what the heck was even happening after 2am.

Where These Worlds Collided: Malls, Roller Rinks, Parties

Valley Girls and Frat Boys were on different ends of the social universe, true. But, they often collided in the gravitational centre of 80's youth culture, which was any place you couldn't escape from unless someone gave you a lift home.

THE MALL 

Valley Girls hip-strutted.

Frat Boys wandered in packs looking for sunglasses and food that could be deep-fried after already being deep-fried once.

A Valley Girl could "like, totally annihilate" a Frat Boys self-esteem with one single up and down glance. To which he would respond by flexing on the escalator or adjusting his Ray-Bans which he naturally wore only indoors.

THE ROLLER RINK

Mating rituals were put on full display at the roller rink. 

Valley Girls skated side-by-side, holding hands and moving like graceful, coordinated butterflies.

Frat Boys skated like cattle that had just been startled by lightning.

The rink DJ was the very first social media algorithm, and would set everyone's mood by randomly, and abruptly, switching from Bon Jovi to Madonna.

Is a Frat Boy fell, another would point and yell, "DUDES, CHECK IT!" and comment on the totally bogus wipeout.

If a Valley Girl fell, five other Valley Girls would fall... after they noticed two circuits of the rink later. Because, solidarity... maybe shoes. Nobody really knows.

HOUSE PARTIES

Valley Girls brought balloons, colored cups, and coordinated snacks shaped like bizarre geometric patterns mated on the trip from the grocer. 

Frat Boys brought volume, chaos, and the kind of structural damage that only comes from trying to do a backflip on shag carpet.

Neither group really understood the other, but they were still curious about each other. Like birds and flowers, except the flowers wore neon and the birds were drunk.

Networking Before Social Networks: The Skill Set

If you wanted to 'be somebody' in the 80's, you still needed to master three pillars of social networking. Tech bros just hadn't bunched them into apps yet:

BROADCASTING (Valley Girl Expertise)

Required being seen and heard. Preferably while sparkly.

This included:

Giggling at decibels that could interfere with your AM radio.

Walks that were equal parts strut and cry-for-help.

Statements that meant absolutely nothing but sounded important. Think: "Tiffany's perm is like, a total mood right now, okay?"

They didn't NEED followers; they CREATED TRENDS by loud existence.

FLOODING (Frat Boy Expertise)

Frat Boys practically invented "post too much; too often." It was a strategy. I guess. Their version of flooding included:

Chanting.

Hollering.

Bellowing at nothing, yet everything, possibly something. And geeks.

Accidentally drunkenly flirting with older women who turned out to be their professors.

If Valley Girls were the content creators, then Frat Boys were the notifications. But you couldn't turn them off.

CLOUT (Mutual Expertise)

In the pre-Instagram world, clout came from:

Having bangs that defied gravity, and picked up satellite images from the USSR.

The bouncer at any club being a relative of some kind.

Owning a car loud enough to drown out your insecurities.

And the ability to do Michael Jackson's "Thriller" dance without spraining something vital to future parenthood.

Valley Girls and Frat Boys were both masters of appearances, just different ones. For Valley Girls, clout was what you made it. For Frat Boys, clout was incidentally ingested at the bottom of a Coors Light.

The Flammability Factor

It would be irresponsible - dare I say negligent - not to mention the driving force that empowered 80's social culture:

HAIRSPRAY

Aquanet: the glue that held society, and bouffants, together.

It was probably also the chemical fog that finally connected Valley Girls and Frat Boys together in an atmospheric haze. If there had been an accidental spark from a cigarette, a synthesizer keyboard shorting out, or a microwave gone rogue, the whole decade would've gone up like a Roman candle.

Twitter may be a dumpster fire. But the 80's could've been a dumpster filled with aerosol cans and prom dresses.

What We Lost When the Internet Won

Sure, today we have social networks that let you broadcast your insanity instantly, engage with millions of strangers, and made the putting on of pants optional.

But we lost some things too:

The art of judging people based on hair volume.

Using body language and bubble-gum to network ideas, arguments, and recipes. For disaster or otherwise.

The primal scream of beer-soaked excellence and gnarly-ism only a fraternity brother knows how to deliver with poise and accuracy.

And we all miss out on the fabled, mall-based combination of neon, gossip, and Cinnabon.

Valley Girls and Frat Boys didn't need apps because they were the apps. And even without the screens, they managed to generate trends. They created connections and left us a legacy of culture that smelled faintly like lipstick, beer foam, and charred rubber from Reebok high-tops.

Sadly, Even the 80's Needed a Fadeout

Today, social networking is faster and slicker. But colder. Impersonal, until the most innocent of comments is taken personally.

Might be efficient, but lacks that ridiculous 80's charm where every conversation felt like a music video and risked second-hand embarrassment.

Maybe we should revisit that wild, flamboyant era from time to time. Add a little analog chaos back into life. Put on leg warmers. Rock out in the kitchen. Make actual eye contact. Say "like, whoa dude" unironically. Wear aerobic tights in a shade of neon that frightens wildlife. Ghetto blast the hair gods of rock n' roll loud enough to rattle the memory of empty aerosol cans on your dresser, back in 1986.

Because if we should learn anything from Valley Girls and Frat Boys, it's this:

Going viral is fine - but going memorable is way more fun!