Generation Why

Photo by Noah Stone

Whilst attending one of the many middle schools I found myself slam-dancing through in my early teens, I landed on one in particular that held my attention for at least a year or two, a record when it comes to my history of truancy and transfers. It was, you guessed it, a local art school that held its own in the national standings and even required auditions for all potential students. Much like my confidential art school now, it was highly competitive and a favorite for soccer moms who thought their ten year olds were Liza Minnelli when it came to all-around talent. (And really, they were just like Liza Minnelli on the talent-scale, coming in somewhere just above Courtney Love and Jeffree Star.)

But despite all of these whack-ass parents, it were the kids that really interested me. In my eighth grade year, a few weeks before I withdrew into the seclusion of a six month summer vacation, I observed something that completely blew my mind. Something so utterly odd and bemusing that I don't really know how I went so long without talking about it.

A phase passed over the school, a phase lasting god knows how long. A phase of pure terror and irony. Within five days, the school went from blissful, underaged normality to having the entire 6th grade population decked in jelly shoes and shirts that read, wait for it, "Made in the 80's."

Now I don't know if you folks are aware of this, but being in my current 15-year-old state means that I was born in 1992. Granted, I've never really been stellar in math class, but I do believe that means that these sixth graders of yore were born in 1994. That's one, two, three, four years after the eighties drew to a close, and by 1989 it was practically the grunge years anyway. Cobain didn't shoot himself in the head until 1994, and that's when these kids were still shitting in diapers and sucking down formula.

So, my question posed is this: When did the eighties become cool? Wasn't it just a few years ago that Generation Y was looking back on their parents and their John Hughes-like fashion sense with nothing less of disdain and confusion? Like a bad hangover, those who survived as a teenager in the eighties are now holding their heads and saying, "Wow, what was I thinking?" Meanwhile, their nine year olds are sneaking their preserved articles of clothing from the back of the closet and wearing them to school with a newfound sense of pride.

And not only are "vintage" eighties dresses and the like now extremely hip and groovy, but new eighties outfits are being made with sloganeering proclaiming just how cool the eighties are. Were. Will be?

Case and point: Miami Twice. Miami Twice is a royally wonderful used clothing store that any and all South Floridian teenagers know of, even those of years past. It's been around for forever and a day, and it still remains today, only with a slightly different twist. Then, it specialized in all things used, like a Goodwill boutique for young people with all the bedazzled t-shirts of Calico cats weeded out. Now, Miami Twice is a store that specializes in new things that look old, particularly those that are paralleled to eighties fashion. There is, in fact, one rack of real vintage dresses towards the front of the store, but the rest is replicas of Elvis Costello t-shirts and creepers, pre-faded and mass produced for public consumption.

I sometimes have to wonder if I'm stuck in some sort of Transylvanian time warp, or if kids really are just having a major generation-identification crisis. Granted, I have no room to talk about how great the eighties really were and how kids these days have no idea what the hell they're talking about. Like I said, I was born in 1992. I was raised on Sky Dancers and the Spice Girls. I didn't know who Joe Strummer was until the year he died, which was completely untimely and generally pretty unfair to my budding inner-audiophile. But even to me it seems awkward that while half of the teenaged population is progressing towards a lifestyle of Flavor Flav and MTV2, the younger ones are growing up on leg-warmers and Remote Control.

But don't let these pre-pubescent, cultural concubines fool you, ladies and gentlemen. The first day I saw some unfortunate eleven year old running around that fore-spoken middle school campus in a Clash shirt, I stopped him with the ever-pressing question. The kind of question that totally calls you out on a lie, and generally fucks you over in the end, even if you are just eleven.

"So, what's your favorite Clash song?"

He paused, staring at me like a deer in headlights. He knew his fate before he even answered. By responding, he only sealed the deal. Personally, I half expected him to turn on his heels and bolt out of my grasp as fast as he possibly could. Fight or flight, as the psychologists say.

"Uhm, I like them all?"

They may wear the shirts, the jeans, and the Doc Martens, but they honestly couldn't tell the Specials from the Smiths. It's all about the fashion. The look. The fact that some ten year old in charge of trendsetting somewhere is feeding them messages saying just how cool the eighties were. Nobody questions what the hell they're wearing, they simply go out to Urban Outfitters, but some jelly shoes, and skip on home. But that's fashion, isn't it? Kids are impressionable little shits, and if someone says that Miley Cyrus with her ever-pressing God complex has all the answers, then by Miley, so be it.

In case you haven't noticed, these kids weren't Made in the 80's as their t-shirts proclaim. In fact, most of them weren't even made in the early-nineties. They grew up with fast-access internet, satellite television, and rumblepacks as a standard, not an additional accessory. Yes, we all were. We are Generation Y, ladies and gentlemen, the generation of plenty, born into the world of milk & honey. And honestly, as a product of the grunge age, I'm completely happy with that. I think I turned out with some sense in my head, and hey, maybe not enough to guarantee me a spot in the Mensa brigade, but definitely enough to get me by.

Definitely enough to know that no, in fact, I was not made in the eighties.