Post #28633 by Chacha on Sun, Mar 30, 2003 10:50 AM

I grew up in the 60's in South Carolina - nowhere near the beach. My mom had some fishnets, driftwood, and glass floats decorating a wall in our basement. They had these friends, the Hagens (who we now call the Pagans) and Mr. Hagen seemed to always wear a smoking jacket. The Hagens had a pool in the backyard and I saw my first champagne fountain at a party at their house.
My Aunt Mimi was a drinker and liked to stir up the holidays at my grandparents house. One year she gave my teenage brothers X-rated gifts (inflatable leg, peter meter, etc) to shock the family. She also gave them memberships to the Playboy Club. Little did she know that my folks would actually GO THERE. I was 3 years old at the Atlanta Playboy club and I was fascinated. Around that same time, the family went to Greenville's only Polynesian restaurant (in a faux colonial Ramada Inn). The sheer scariness/tackiness of the decor, plus the mysterious purple glow of the pu pu platter had me hooked. I have been searching for it ever since and here I am trying to continue the lifestyle of those swinging Hagen/Pagans.