I had to devise a plan to soak up more MTV. I craved my MTV, and I wanted it desperately. I sulked around, stealing glances at Martha Quinn, Nina Blackwood, and Adam Curry’s epic hair whenever I could, but nothing beat the thrill of Friday Night Videos. I started babysitting in the summer of 1982, and I quickly realized that MTV was an incredible perk for a gig that only paid a dollar an hour. SHHH! Kids, I can’t hear Kevin Cronin belting out “I Can’t Fight This Feeling.”
By the time Headbangers Ball hit the airwaves, my sister and I were fully immersed in the hair band phenomenon. Bon Jovi dropped Slippery When Wet (snicker at the title!) in 1986, and our family was all about New Jersey pride. I reminded all my teenage friends that I was a Jersey girl, practically related to Jon himself. During a trip to the New Jersey shore with my cousins, I snagged a T-shirt that proclaimed, “Jersey girls … best in the world.” Naturally, every lifeguard on the beach stopped to chat, leading me to believe I was destined for popularity—completely unaware of what the shirt really implied at 15. My mother, with her cheeky sense of humor and a shirt that read “Do it in a van” (ah, the ’70s), was no help with deciphering that.
Every time “Livin’ on a Prayer” played on MTV, I was utterly captivated. Those luscious locks! The frosted highlights! Richie’s hat! Tico’s soul patch! They were like long-haired superheroes.
Soon enough, a poster of Jon Bon Jovi was plastered on our hallway wall, but here’s the twist: neither my sister nor I put it up. It was my 5-foot-tall, super-cool mom who wanted a daily dose of Jon every time she walked past our bedrooms.
I had to get my hands on the must-have fashion item of the season: the denim jacket with white fringe. I wore that jacket everywhere, and it made appearances in a ton of photos that year. Okay, maybe two years. Fine, three years. My mom might still have it hidden away in her closet.
The hits from that album felt endless at the time. “Livin’ on a Prayer,” “You Give Love a Bad Name,” and “Wanted Dead or Alive” turned us into karaoke stars long before karaoke was a thing. Every school dance was filled with air guitar moments and our voices raised, shouting, “Whooa-o! We’re halfway there!” I still know every verse by heart; the lyrics just roll off my tongue.
By the time I hit college, my Slippery When Wet cassette was practically worn out. The New Jersey album was still going strong, and “I’ll Be There for You” became my anthem as I left my childhood friends behind in 1989. Coincidentally, that was also the year my parents finally caved and got cable. Thanks a lot, Mom and Dad!
My new friends were a mix of polished sorority girls and fellow hair band enthusiasts. When I joined the rowing team my freshman year, word spread that I was a head-banger who spent my evenings at concerts at Bogart’s on Vine Street. A senior decided to nickname me “Megadeth” in honor of my music tastes, and it stuck. To this day, my rowing friends still call me “Mega.” It’s definitely a cooler nickname than “Bon Jovi,” or else novices might have mistaken my name for “Bon” instead of “Megan.” Long story, without much more explanation.
The guys I dated in my early college years resembled Jon Bon Jovi—well, if you squinted and viewed them from a distance. Hair bands were on fire, and my best friend and I were on a mission to meet as many long-haired rockers as possible. I have pictures with Enuff Z’Nuff, Dangerous Toys, Mr. Big, Skid Row, Danger Danger, and other obscure one-hit wonders. No, I’m not sharing those!
Then came the early ’90s and Nirvana crashed my rock music paradise. Grunge took over, and Bon Jovi’s brethren like Cinderella, Winger, and Extreme faded into the background. Most of those bands still tour, by the way, catering to metal-heads like me who refuse to let go.
My 4-year-old son is all about country music these days, growing up in Texas. Yet, occasionally, a classic rock song catches his ear and he starts dancing. He loves certain tracks by AC/DC, Motley Crue, and the Honeydrippers, but his go-to lullabies are “Beth” by KISS and “Patience” by Guns N’ Roses.
I did promise my husband I wouldn’t hang a Jon Bon Jovi poster in the hallway, though.
This essay first appeared at Midlife Mixtape.
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Summary:
In a nostalgic reflection on her teenage years, Jamie Collins recounts her deep admiration for Jon Bon Jovi during the hair band era, from her obsession with MTV to the fashion trends of the time. She shares humorous anecdotes about her mother’s involvement, her college experiences, and how the rock scene shifted with the arrival of grunge. Now, as a mother, she sees the music’s influence on her son while maintaining her playful bond with her past.