It was the late 70's. Disco was all the rage. Sparkly clothes were in style, and everybody who knows me knows that I like sparkly things. I bought myself a skin-tight sparkly shirt, and a pair of platform shoes and I was ready to boogie. I was 18 and living in Germany. I was of a legal age to drink over there. So a group of my friends and I decided to go to a discoteque. Of course I wore my sparkly shirt. It was made out of some sort of stretchy polyester mesh material. Like a pair of panty-hose, it was tiny before I put it on, and then stretched to fit me. So we get to the disco, have a couple of drinks, and some hot guy comes over and asks me to dance. One of those mirrored disco balls was spinning overhead, so sparkly colored lights are dancing around the room. I start dancing. I notice that my partner is looking at me with a big grin on his face. I'm thinking, "This guy is really into me." Black lights are on, strobe lights are flashing. People seem to be looking at me and pointing. Apparently I'm a better dancer than I had previously thought. I'd had a couple of drinks and I was feeling bold, so I kicked my dance moves into high gear (think John Travolta). My partner kept trying to talk to me, but the music was so loud I couldn't hear him. The music ended and I went back to my friends, who were pointing at me and laughing as I headed back to my table. Turns out I'd made an unwise choice in wearing a white bra with my black and silver sparkly shirt, and when the black light was shining on me, it looked like I was dancing in my bra.