In the punk/hardcore community that I grew up in, punks weren't supposed to care about fashion beyond utility and looking off-putting to the rest of the world. You could care about your appearance but if you spent over 25 minutes on your mohawk you would be ceaselessly mocked for trying too hard. We wore black. Black Chuck Taylors or black boots, the better for dumpster diving. (Even the most staunch animal-rights activist vegan in our town declared himself a "Freegan" when we realized that Krispy Kreme donuts were thrown out in clean plastic bags every hour.) Black bandanas, black jeans, spiked or studded black belts, black t-shirts with white screenprints that were made in our friend's garage. Sometimes, usually in the summer, we would wear white t-shirts with black screenprints. And always the black hoodies or jean jackets.
At the time, skinny jeans weren't in vogue with the rest of the world, so we would buy baggy black Carhartts, cut them up, and sew the legs with dental floss. Everyone had one or two pairs that were worn to literal shreds and then patched with various band patches. (Always a lot of local bands but also the heavy hitters like aus-rotten, Amebix, Casualties and CRASS.) Our look said "These Converse All-Stars are held together with packing tape."
The entire community was built on a Do-It-Yourself mentality that extended into fashion. We would buy the XL $6 t-shirt from the touring band and then cut it to make it fit. We would thrift a bunch of t-shirts from Goodwill and then screenprint them for our own bands. If you found a t-shirt from a band that you liked and that already fit you, then you were really lucky. (BTW, this was in the days before social networking, so touring bands gained notoriety from word of mouth and maybe the occasional zine article.)
In my experience, punk was about outsiders coming together and remaking themselves into the fashion of a specific community. This was for kids who hadn't managed to find a group to hang with at their high school and who didn't have a healthy outlet for their physical aggression. (No one played sports or did any other sort of BS organized activity.) This was Punk. We had a community, a sense of history, and if we didn't have a written purpose, we had a shared goal of making music and having a good time. Our clothing, and sometimes our filth, distinguished us from the rest of the world.
It took leaving my hometown in my early/mid 20s, for me to feel able to shed my punk clothing. I'm still not sure if I'm REALLY over it at all. Luckily, black clothing is also popular in the art world.
And now for the embarrassing photographs...
Amazing! I would have never guessed the extent of your hard-core origins--I find punk and its attendant style SO interesting, especially in the discourse of what's considered "authentic" for specific subcultures (if such a thing exists). Would love to hear more about your past. Also, I don't know if you'll take this as a compliment given your punk roots, but I've admired your style for the last year and I assumed you were a New York fashionista from way back--you have that cool, art gallery, effortless chic thing going on :)
ReplyDeleteThat sounds like a very familiar scenario, Jeanne. High school misfits (who usually end up being the people who make something of themselves later on) will definitely build a community around a shared fashion, music, or art sense. They likely don't come from the community elite, kids of well-to-families who play an immense role in community politics. The well-to-do kids from my "old money" neighborhood generally married each other, as their families were close acquaintances growing up--acquaintances dating back 100 years. On the other hand, my friends from high school (with whom I have been able to maintain contact) were usually middle-class and had little athletic, or even academic, ambitions. I think you have a great point about dress. My clique didn't have the advantages of a set social order determined at birth like many of these kids, and it requires that you become creative and hard working to make something of yourself. Would I trade places with the preppy kids now? I don't think so.
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