When Harriet the Spy was released, I was obsessed. I loved everything about it. I loved the bright orange NICKELODEON VHS it played on. I loved the opening Nickelodeon sequence that had a running rhino. I loved every character, every line, every prop...everything. I loved it so much that I became a little obsessive.
So obsessive, in fact, that I tried to be Harriet. I thought Harriet was the coolest name, way cooler than Jessi. I would wear my red raincoat around the house whenever I wasn't watching the movie: the small pockets filled with little things I considered gadgets. Maybe a mirror, pens, a watch, anything a spy would use, just like Harriet. But most importantly, I carried a notebook.
I became obsessed with the black and white composition notebooks, and I'd specifically ask for those from my parents. I must have had and filled dozens of them with observations, notes, ramblings. I guess I have Harriet to thank for inspiring some of my earlier writing.
I tried reading the book (once I discovered it existed) years later, but it wasn't the same. Harriet the Spy was the perfect movie in my eyes, and I idolized her. Her notebook would later be discovered by classmates and read, something that would happen to me as well a few years later. Thank goodness they didn't start some sort of "Spy Catchers Club" and turn on me like they did poor Harriet.
photo via (we heart it)