The Rain Has Washed Away My Sanity

“This is where it all happened,” a young, tan-lined Lauren Conrad says in a voiceover as we see her wander aimlessly down the shoreline, her Old Navy flip flops dangling from one hand. “It all” being a couple of black-and-white parties held in penthouses charged to their parents’ credit cards, one poorly made tub of bow-tie alfredo, and a handful of incredibly anti-climactic love triangles. But “it all” was also everything.

Lauren describes her senior year in Laguna Beach, California as a year she’ll “never forget,” and neither will I. Laguna Beach is one of those shows that’s permanently imprinted on my brain — certain scenes, phrases, mannerisms. It premiered when I was a sophomore in high school, and I used this low-budget reality show to develop my entire personality.

I’d spend hours in front of the mirror trying to perfect Kristin’s casual, just-got-done-surfing messy bun. (I honestly kind of nailed it. But I didn’t have blonde hair, perfect skin, and double D’s, so it didn’t have quite the same effect.) I’d lower my voice to sound throatier like her. (Let’s be honest, we all wanted to be Kristin. But Lauren’s like a billionaire or something now, so maybe we chose wrong.) I’d say “dunzo” in my suburban Philadelphia accent and sound like a complete moron. And pretty much the only meal I knew how to make was bow-tie alfredo with broccoli and chicken.