Nancy Lethcoe's Blog

Just about every day, I pop into Big Hair.

You can’t miss it. Go down Ventura Boulevard, and you’ll find it sitting next to a quirky sock shop, a coffee joint called Just Beans, and a dusty, old bookstore that sells Hollywood scripts. The pink neon sign blinks a friendly hello, and even though half the bulbs are burned out, it honestly makes it cooler.

Open the door, and you’re hit with the scent of strawberry Lip Smackers … and Aqua Net. “Walk Like an Egyptian” is blasting from the speakers. Don’t fight it. You’ll be doing the pharaoh walk before the first chorus.

And there she is. What makes Big Hair, Big Hair. Roxy Carlisle. Owner and queen of all things ‘80s, and every part of her screams it. Permed hair as high as Mount Kilimanjaro, blue eyeshadow, and nails that flash in the neon light.

“Welcome back, time traveler,” she smiles and offers you fresh coffee in a mug that reads I ♥ Ms. Pac-Man (of course.)

Take a peek inside. Meander through the aisles. Black-and-white checkered floors. Racks of comics and heartthrob magazines. Walls covered in John Hughes movie posters. And the clothes? Kids today can’t get enough of the vintage acid-wash jeans, leather bomber jackets, and those pretty prom dresses with puffy sleeves.

And the good stuff? Anything that ever made it into a Sears Wish Book it’s here. Care Bears. Transformers. And vinyl, rare movie memorabilia, and even a few boomboxes that work if you smack them just right.

In the corner, a TV loops Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.  There’s always some customer quoting those famous lines as the movie plays: “Bueller?... Bueller?”

Here’s the thing:

Big Hair is more than just a shop I dreamed up for my book. I wanted to create a feeling. Like that electric rush when you see that Luke Skywalker action figure you had as a kid. Or that Garfield lunchbox you carried to school (peanut butter and jelly never had it so good).

When you read about Roxy Carlisle and her store, I want you to picture yourself—coffee in hand—wandering aisles, flipping through stacks of vinyl (I chose a Duran Duran one today) and Teen Beat magazines (the one with John Stamos … killer).

We live in a world that’s fast, digital, and filtered. We scroll, click, refresh, repeat …

But Big Hair slows us down. It connects us back to the real world. Yeah, it’s dusty, and things are a little scratched—but it’s alive. You can hold a record, smell a candle called Julius’s Dreamsicle, and talk to a stranger who remembers the same commercial jingle you do. “Give me a break, give me a break…”

It’s not about going back in time; it’s about remembering how to feel time again.

And if you smell like strawberry Lip Smackers and Aqua Net for the rest of the day?

Totally worth it.

One night, over a glass of California wine (a moody little Pinot Noir) and a soundtrack of ’80s hits, an idea struck me. Like a bolt of lightning? Maybe. More like a neon flash.

What if my heroine didn’t just love the ’80s—what if she lived it? I mean, totally lived it, forty years after the best decade ever. She still had big hair, blue eyeshadow, and nails that screamed louder than an Eddie Van Halen guitar solo.

And just like that, Roxy showed up. She was a neon-lit vision in shoulder pads and sass, dragging me happily into her world.

First, there’s her retro boutique called Big Hair, packed with everything ‘80s. Stroll through the aisles, and you’ll find vintage clothes, classic vinyl, and a stash of beloved toys. Funshine Care Bear? You know it! She’s sitting next to a Speak & Spell, a Rubik's Cube, and a stack of Tiger Beat Magazines.

But it’s not just about the gear. Roxy’s life is filled with found family: Her quirky best friend, Susan, with her frizzy red hair and bookish charm; Jess, the tattooed queen of perms who owns the Pink Lounge; and Joe and Phil, who run the wildest sock shop in LA.

Writing Roxy wasn’t just about creating a character; it pulled me out of a creative fog. She reminded me what it felt like to grow up in Los Angeles in the ’80s. It was the best—big music, bold fashion, and this incredible sense of optimism. Movies had happy endings, women were breaking barriers, and kids like me believed we could be anything.

Sure, the world wasn’t perfect, but it felt like hope was winning.

And if you had a Star Wars figure in your pocket and a bike to ride? Life was pretty good.

So here’s to Roxy. She’s proof that big dreams (like big hair) never really go out of style.