Many people are disturbed by the current revival of ’80s fashion. I am also disturbed by it, but I will attempt to deal with it by understanding it. I take my fear, and I conquer it.
The easy theory is that it is simply the ’80s turn in this merry-go-round that is fashion. We just finished the ’70s with peasant blouses and hippie skirts, and fashion, while cyclical, is also linear. As unpleasant as ’80s fashion was the first time around, the fashion ferris wheel must load up the carts in order, and lo, the ’80s are here again. (Oh mixed amusement park metaphors…)
But that’s too pat. Too easy. Too Fashion Television.
/I/ think that while the sequentiality of fashion might dictate the /arrival/ of the ’80s, it doesn’t account for it’s popularity. And it’s the popularity that makes a trend stick to the backs of the young fashion forwards (instead of grinning and bearing it for the shortest season they can manage). And the popularity is the part I think I can explain.
Y’see, the age cohort of your current fashionista is mid-to-late-20s. Juuuust old enough to have seen the ’80s happen, not quite old enough have experienced it in their teenaged prime. Old enough to have watched John Hughes’ movies from their sibling’s collection, not quite old enough have seen them in theatres. Old enough to feel funny when they saw John Cusack standing onscreen in the rain, not quite old enough to understand exactly why (though really, do any of us ever understand /exactly/ why?). Old enough to want to wear a trenchcoat, sneakers and English band t-shirts, not old enough to pull it off. Old enough to want a cut-off off-the-shoulder sweatshirt, not old enough to get one of your own and not a hand-me down.
So that’s what I think it is. I think it’s grown-ups playing dressup. They’ve somehow lucked out and are matching up their hipster first flush of cash years with the fashion looks of their early idols. You can see it in their shiny eyes, glinting beneath their Ducky hairdos. They’re /excited/ about dressing this way. Every day is “wear your older cooler brother/sister/cousin’s clothes” day, and it’s socially acceptable. They’re living the dream. For a few brief seasons, they /are/ the cast of Fame.
Or at least that’s the “aw, that’s cute” story I’m telling myself so I don’t yack all over their hi-tops.