One could argue that Clueless was a cultural touchstone, created for the age group I was in when it was released. One could argue it’s sentimentality for the time in which it was based. For instance, Cher turns on the television and sees Ren & Stimpy and Beavis and Butthead. I often think about what else Cher would have seen while channel surfing. Roseanne. The Cosby Show. Full House. And Nick at Nite was really banging then.

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To anyone who is still unconvinced of Cher’s complexity, I say to you: iCarly. That is the fifteen year old character girls have today. An immature hyperactive baby, who shouts everything she says, who lives in an inexplicable Seattle multifloor condo with no parents, who faces problems like how to tell her juvenile big brother that his butter sculpture melted, and who is ultimately boring. I think of Clueless when I am looking for my only presentable top, which for her was a collared blouse from Fred Segal. I think of Cher when I am rushed getting ready, and my face gets flushed. I have thought of Dionne probably 4 times out of 10 when merging onto the freeway. Sometimes while drinking coffee, I wonder if it has stunted my growth. I think of this film when I remove a layer of clothing and have no idea what to do with it. Whenever I hear the word sporadically. Whenever I hear The Cranberries or Coolio. Whenever I try to recall what I’ve had to eat (two bowls of special K, three pieces of turkey bacon, a handful of popcorn, five peanut butter M&M’s, and like, three pieces of licorice). When I see Mentos in the checkout line. While playing tennis. When I see argyle. When I wonder where the girls like Natalie are hiding.