I can’t make up my mind on this one. I have many memories of neon tracksuits, so they are all getting jumbled together in my brain and making this dazzling stew of color. I think these can go two ways, so let me explain:

Crime: The gym teacher. You know he/she had one in every color of the rainbow. This ill-fitting monstrosity mocked you as you played dodge ball, ran the mile, fought lions and tried to avoid incoming traffic on your ghetto-ass playground (I’m still a little traumatized). Seeing them in the store still gives me the chills as I wonder if I remembered to bring my tennis shoes for gym class.

Beacon of hope: Senior citizens. How can you not love these two wearing matching neon tracksuits as they enjoy a nice afternoon? I dream of the day when two- dozen of these babies are hanging in the closet of my deluxe beachfront condo in Boca Raton. When I am super old and pissed at New York, I am filling my suitcase with these nylon glories and jetting south where I will enjoy dinner at 4 p.m., shuffleboard, bridge, wearing jewelry weighing more than my torso and basically hitting the bars and skanking it Blanche Devero style. Maybe neon tracksuits will have their 15 minutes of fame after all.