By Cory Sklar
By Alee Karim
By Christina Li
By Dave Pehling
By Ian S. Port
By SF Weekly
By Ian S. Port
By Ian S. Port
It's 1984, and your female teenage fantasy life is dominated by England's puffy-shirted synth gods, Duran Duran. Countless slumber parties revolve around quizzes in BOP and Teen Beat, which help scientifically guide you and your girlfriends into the arms of the right Duranie. Are you a budding jet-setter? Then frontman Simon Le Bon is the right man for you. Maybe you're more of a conversationalist? Bassist John Taylor is waiting with your Lemon-Lime Tab.
In the 25 years since you first longed for a pouty man miming a synthesizer solo, you've learned a lot about relationships. We now return to your childhood daydreams as adults, to discern the outcomes of your Duran Duran hookups, had they come true.
In a band of clotheshorses, Nick still manages to stand out in 2009. He might have worn the same jumpsuits, pirate shirts, and lady-pirate shirts as his fellow Duranies, but he added a provocative touch that proved he was his own dandy. Countless substances later, Nick is less the "savvy peacock" and more the "strategic layerer." Sure, your husband is just as likely to borrow from your wardrobe as when you first met. But your brights are as useless to Nick as Duran Duran's most recent album — 2007's hitless wonder, Red Carpet Massacre — is to his fans.
Ever the loquacious charmer, John seduced you with his extensive knowledge of elastic headgear. But like many great talkers, your husband is a poor listener. This year, you finally interrupt his monologues to tell him you're leaving. He tenderly clasps your hand as his bandmates materialize from the kitchen cupboards, pleading in unison, "Please, please, tell me now!" But John squanders the moment — the culmination of your adolescent dreams — when he points to his forehead and asks, "Too sparkly?"
Andy is the loose cannon of the group — the one who tells your dad to "Sod off, ol' man!" before adding meekly, "It's a British expression meaning, 'Nice Lacoste, sir.'" Over the years, such outbursts have alienated your friends, especially those who are neither old nor men. Andy even managed to estrange himself from the band: first during a 20-year stretch that started after 1985's Live Aid concert, and then again in 2006, during the recording sessions of the never-completed Reportage. These days, on the rare occasions you leave the house with your husband, his defiant nature invariably leads him into a tussle with an Olive Garden hostess.
Simon Le Bon
Frontman Simon Le Bon is the compulsive adventurer. He did things just to see you swoon. In the '80s, that meant racing around the world in his yacht. But your husband's sporting career ended abruptly in 1985, when his boat capsized. These days, Simon's means of adventure include sessions on your son's PlayStation and the fight club he started with recent Duran collaborator Justin Timberlake.