A to Z of the 80s - D is for Dance!

Dance!

by Jo Michelmore

Long before mini-Sia Maddie-whatsername was flailing around manically dancing to big-Sia songs, there was a decade called the 80s. In that decade there was a guy called Michael Jackson who thought he could walk on the moon via the moonwalk (which was probably better than some of his other ideologies), there was a whole movement of people who liked to view the world via dance, mainly from the floor, commonly referred to as breakdancing and there was a movie based around the entire concept of dancing, of the dirty kind (which is not dirrrty with three r's Xtina early 00s style, but just a little cute). RIP P Swazye.

But they were the big dances. They were the ones that would have been snappchatted like there was no 1990, had snapchat existed in the 80s. Actually, I'm pretty sure #dirtydancingfail would have gone viral numerous times over, should the hashtag have meant anything in 1987.

The dances you were less likely to hashtag fail and see on the light up dancefloor of your favourite club? Well, there was the ever popular running man, which involved...running but not running? I don't know, but it's kinda mesmerising gif style...

There were also the beginnings of what Madonna turned into vogueing, which involved looking a little bit like this kid...

Who was doing that long before this kid got his diva on...

There was slam dancing, if punk was more your style, which developed into moshing and looks sort of ridiculous when a whole bunch of people do it together...

But looks even stupider when done by ones self...

 The butt was a good one, because anyone with a butt could do it....

Which Miley and Bieber took to a whole new (not necessarily good) level in 2013...

And probably my fave, because it happened waaaaaay before rap got all same-same-not-same-but-same...

The Humpty, from 1989, when rappers used to dance and just have fun...

And one more, because it's my all time favourite, from the very end of the 80s, which needs absolutely no explanation, just a pair of baggy pants. Hammertime*. Break it down. Can't touch...

 

*Can't guarantee won't be stuck in your head for several days following you reading this. You're welcome.