As I’ve settled into the fourth decade of my life, I’ve become accustomed to noticing a group of teenagers and thinking, “Oh, that’s cool again?”
The plaid grunge thing; sunflower prints; neon: we did that first. And we swore we were original, and not distinctively trendy. We were just being ourselves.
On the CTA last week, I texted my sister to alert her to our teenage years returning. I spied a crop top, a choker, and a jumper in a single train car. She, always cooler than me, replied that she currently owns two of the three 90s-comeback trends.
Fashion is cyclical, I’m told. (I’m chronically unfashionable.) But some things just don’t make it back the second (or third) time around.
For instance, when some friends posted a photo of a creepy chubby angelic statue from their recent trip to Prague, I exclaimed, “Wasn’t it weird that cherubs were a trend in the early 90s?”
Hannah was shocked and dismayed. That would be weird if that were actually a thing, but surely it wasn’t, right?
Again acknowledging that I am not and have never been trendy, I questioned myself. Maybe I was the only kid who had a cherub scene on their journal, and a cherub t-shirt – incredibly over sized of course – and possibly some figurines. (I rocked a backwards baseball cap and some cutoff shorts with the t-shirt, I’m sure.)
I googled, “cherub trend early 90s.” Voila, a vintage Vivienne Westwood bustier popped up in the results. Surely, I was on trend! The only reason I know Vivienne Westwood exists is because of one of Carrie’s failed wedding attempts. That shit is Vogue.
I felt vindicated. But, kids, I advise against the reboot of the cherub. It’s creepy af.
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