One year on Christmas morning sometime in the late 80s, my stocking was stuffed with a pair of black magic gloves (most likely from Zellers or some place equally thrifty), that also happened to be sort of sparkly... Though magic gloves tend to be lost and replaced quite easily and frequently in the great white north, I saved my sparkly gloves (which I always called my Michael Jackson gloves) for my weekend figure skating classes and wore them without ever losing them until they fell to pieces. How magical is THAT? Other precious memories include spinning around on all fours as a toddler on my neighbours' slick parquet floor monotonously chanting: breakdancing, breakdancing, breakdancing...
I snapped this photo at the Jeff Koons exhibit at the Château de Versailles last December. Michael Jackson lives!