April 1–8, 1999

|century 21

Back in the '90s

You had bobby socks in the '50s. Tie-dye in the '60s. Platform shoes in the '70s. Flock of Seagulls hair in the '80s.

And in the '90s, you had all of it all over again.

But what made the '90s distinct? Think, OK, I'm having a Halloween party in the year 2020 and the theme is the '90s. What would people wear?

Sure, anything retro or "vintage" would be acceptable, but there are also articles of clothing and styles of dress that were distinctly '90s: The Gap, J. Crew, tight clothes, baggy clothes, black, black black clothing, lip liner, lower-end designer lines like Armani Exchange, DKNY, Tommy Hilfiger and Ralph (Lauren), the waif look, heroin chic, grunge, every color nail polish you can imagine, glitter makeup, Birkenstocks as something other than birth control shoes, Prada bags and shoes, Teva sandals (even when you were nowhere near a river); high-tech fabrics; the acceptance of non-Western styles into mainstream fashion (think: henna tattoos; Chinese hair sticks; African jewelry; Calvin Klein's origami skirts), hair chunking, little sparkly barrettes. The list goes on.

Here we've included insights from some of our writers on a few of the larger trends that made the '90s so, um, dope. And don't forget, you still have eight months left to make a '90s fashion statement. Go!

-Margit Detweiler

Illustrations by Isabel Samaras

 

Thrift Store Chic

It's safe to say that during the '70s, not one child enjoyed wearing the mustard yellow/forest green sweater-vest their parents forced them to squirm around in. But by the late '80s/early '90s, those children, infused with high levels of the ironic disillusionment that would define the Gulf War generation, would seek to reconstruct and distort the look. As indie rock climbed college radio playlists, thrift stores were deluged with the kind of anti-fashion statements these disaffected college twentysomethings sought. They embraced clothes they once shunned—velour shirts, too-tight baby Ts, polyester pants, Little League-style jerseys, and lots of corduroy in mixed colors they once abhorred—deep rusts, obnoxious yellows and a million shades of brown. They also fabricated blue-collar values inherent in nametag-bearing work shirts and never-need-ironing Dickies pants. It was a calculatedly unaesthetic aesthetic in spired by punk icons. And it was cheap, at $1-$5 an item. Thrift store runs were often quests to find the ugliest-patterned, big-collared synthetic shirt possible. It was a snarky, sidelong "fuck you" to a popular culture that, whether via gangster rap and grunge or x-treme sports, embraced more overt displays of discontentment. By the mid-'90s culture-vulture entrepreneurs scoured thrifts and sold hip gear at obscene markups in vintage chop shops. It made buying into the look easier, if more expensive. But, like every other "alternative" look co-opted by the mainstream, it became ultimately meaningless.

-Brian Howard

 

 

Blue: The New White

A lapel may have widened, a tie may have narrowed, pleats may have come and gone and come again, but for most of this century the uniform of the American businessman has pretty much stayed the same: dark suit, conservative tie, white shirt.

The white-shirt rule changed slightly over the years. Light blues and pinks crept into acceptability, as did muted stripes and checks. And there was also the horrifying period during the '70s when it seemed like a nifty idea to wear, say, lavender—preferably with a white tie.

But it wasn't until the '90s that the white shirt met a truly serious challenge in the conformity department. The new uniform for the white-collar worker is a shirt in a shade of deep, dark blue.

Don't know when it started—maybe with Casual Fridays, maybe with Calvin Klein. But once it started, it didn't go away. It's daring without going overboard, up-to-date without being exactly chic—and now it's got the best of all recommendations for corporate droneswear, evident at Suburban Station during rush hour or in Liberty Place at lunchtime: Everyone else is wearing it, too.

Then again, there may be another good reason why the look has prevailed.

A man in a deep, dark blue shirt usually looks pretty good.

-David Warner

 

 

All Vamped Up

When Chanel's black-red nail polish, Vamp, hit stores in 1995, a beauty revolution happened. What was once banished to the world of punk rockers & goths—dark, spooky-looking, black-red nails—became coveted, and eventually mainstream. Scores of women, young and old alike, followed the trend. Why did the glossy eggplant shade become so huge? Dark nails had proven themselves to be enduring before the house of Chanel fell in love with the color and effect. Chanel took away the street and punk-rock associations by replacing them with moneyed images of couture fashion and glossy magazine layouts. Smaller start-up lines Hard Candy,

Urban Decay and Ripe saw herds of people stampeding to the cashier and knew the trend was no fluke—or limited to the one rich, dark shade. Once Vamp was celebrated by the elite (and eventually day-jobbers), the floodgates opened for all new and unusual nail polish shades. It was anything goes for a while. Even drugstore giants Revlon and L'Oreal got in on the action.

Now we're back to simpler, subtler colors, but the impact of Vamp lives on—in our hearts, if not on our nails.

-Alex Richmond

 

 

The baggier the better

If you walk down South Street or Second Street in Old City past 3 a.m. you can hear a "whoosh" against the evening's breezes as kids shuffle home to their beds—it's the sound of those ever-widening pants, fattyboomballatti legs just barely able to pass through doors.

This look was, perhaps, the most particular to the '90s—designer underwear showing over the top of the waistline; pants with belt loops and extended tool loops around their knees, sagging from the weight of keys and chains; back pockets where the backs of one's knees would be.

But there were a variety of baggy styles in the past decade. You could dig 'em cuffed and pleated with watch fobs dangling à la the swing set. You could find 'em sporty with racing stripes down the leg, just a smidge away from sweatpants (it's all in the material). You could march around in cargo pants of silk and wool for designer brands to parachute materials to good old khaki from Old Navy. Or if your passions ran to hip-hop and electro cultures, your baggies were made of hard cotton, stiff polyester or denim with legs three feet wide 'n' rising.

But why do we love baggy pants? It all goes back to childhood. The very first pants you were made to wear, that you were oh-so-comfortable in, were diapers and baggy soft-cotton drawers. So the next time you wanna laugh at somebody wearing too-baggy pants, think again. It's perhaps the sign of a good, safe childhood.

-a.d. amorosi

 

 

Sneaky Trend

Buying a new pair of sneakers is a daunting task.

On a recent quest for the perfect pair I found myself standing in front of a massive array of colors, shapes and styles with a man dressed like a referee prodding, "May I help you?"

If he really wanted to help me, he'd spend hours with me discussing my needs, aesthetic interests, athletic ability and plantar fascitis.

It's enough to make me buy the first thing I see. Maybe that's the point.

Sneakers have become like cars. Every year ushers in a new model. Something bigger, faster, sleeker and more colorful than its predecessor. The choices are endless—from the skateboard cool of old school Vans to preppy white Stan Smiths to the wild swirling Nike Air designs. And we are willing to invest $60 to $100 for a pair of stylish sneaks.

There is a sneaker for every sport and every pace—walking, running, hiking and even a slow shuffle in the form of the sport sandal. In the '90s, sneaker companies branched out into more casual forms like Converse's suede slip-ons or Nike's Air Soc-Moc—a weird, Sleestack-like shoe. Wearing a sneaker didn't necessarily mean you were even getting off your butt.

Sneakers have become high couture as well—acceptable footwear with long skirts and loose trousers. Designers Donna Karan, Tommy Hilfiger and Ralph Lauren got into the game with their stylish, usually flamboyant sneaks. The 1998 U.S. Athletic Footwear Market predicts that "performance" walking and "athleisure" shoes (non-performance athletic styles, canvas, suede, alternative sports) will become more and more popular in the coming years.

As we race to the end of the century, at least our feet are trying to slow us down.

-Margit Detweiler

 

 

Tattoo You

"My body is that part of the world which my thoughts can change." -Lichtenberg, The Lichtenberg Reader

Body art has been a physical manifestation of cultural identity, ritual and significance since the beginning of recorded history. It wasn't until the '90s, however, that body adornment and modification, specifically tattooing, began to gain acceptance in Western society. More than any other time, our culture has become obsessed with the idea of self. Seeking personal understanding and identity, searching for new meaning in the spirituality and belief systems of other cultures have all played a role in the trend of body art in mainstream society.

There are many reasons why someone gets tattooed, pierced or modified. Rites of passage (worldly or spiritual) marking significant moments in time and place, aesthetic and experience all play roles in the significance of body art in modern culture. The ideas that spawned my own tattoos are drastically different—even within each tattoo. Recurring nightmares as a child, a fascination for the fine line that exists for me between the dream world and the waking world and explorations of the dark side of humanity and the end of the world inspired the images in my tattoos. Another influence on each piece was the particular style of the tattoo artist. The dark and dreamlike artwork by Chris Dingwell, a tattoo artist in New Hampshire, complemented the nightmare imagery in my mind that helped bring one of my tattoos to life.

—Karin Samoviski