A recent piece in The New York Times about the opening of a new Doc Martens store in Soho prompted some hazy reminiscing on my part. I went back to 1994: the year that Reality Bites came out. I wanted Winona's short, choppy hair. I wanted her shapeless floral dresses worn with ratty cardigans. I wanted to be best friends with Janeane Garofolo.
Oh the nineties. Grunge, Kurt Cobain, Marc Jacobs, Ace of Base, Glo Worms and Pound Puppies... you were a fairly flat decade really. No social revolution of the 60s, no disco sexuality of the 70s, no excess and Michael Douglas of the 80s. You were without identity. And, you'll also forever be associated with Doc Martens.
Or, in reverse: Doc Martens, you will always be associated with the 90s. Perhaps for some people that's a good thing. Either reinvent yourself. Or, wait a really long time until the 90s somehow become cool.
