In fifth grade, I asked my mom to buy me a pair of black combat boots. The origin of the request came about the same way it did years prior when I made another shoe-related appeal to my mom for ballet shoes. I’d seen The Nutcracker and was enamored with the style. But by fifth grade, I’d branched out in my pop culture consumption, ensconced in the music, films, and TV shows that were my gateway drugs to grunge.
I consumed endless music videos on MTV at friends’ houses. I sneakily watched Reality Bites starring Winona Ryder and Ethan Hawke on VHS. I listened to Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill ad nauseam. Thanks to my cooler older brother, I heard grunge-adjacent alt-rock bands like Weezer, while my cooler older neighbor Maureen introduced me to important 1990s tastemakers like Gwen Stefani. (Everyone should have a cooler older sibling or neighbor or — better yet — both.) My best friend, Maggie, ensured I saw landmark films like Clerks, SLC Punk, and Trainspotting.
There was something magnetic about grunge, especially when I was young and wanted to push the envelope, dance over the line, and flirt with different styles. To me, as a kid, the grunge look was like giving a middle finger to the world. The ’90s are long gone, but grunge is still thriving with twisty iterations like “fairy grunge,” “hippie grunge,” and “soft grunge.” Whether you call it grunge, punk, or feral girl, the unmistakable look continues to thrive even as antithetical styles like Barbiecore and Regencycore gain cultural traction.
In recent years, thanks to the popularity of shows like Bridgerton, an interest in Regency fashion has seen a resurgence. In 2022, the 1800s era of dress takes form in the popular nap dress and other styles recalling (but not being as confining as) corsetry. The hyper-feminine silhouette includes hallmarks like an empire waist, soft cap sleeves, and saturated jewel tones and light pastels. Meanwhile, the Barbiecore look — best exemplified by the Valentino Pink PP collection — is similarly having a moment as anticipation for the Margot Robbie-helmed Barbie movie builds.
However, grunge keeps unapologetically taking a bite out of the cultural zeitgeist, appealing to both the young and old. Mainstream labels such as Marc Jacobs, Anna Sui, Alexander McQueen, Vivienne Westwood, and DSquared2 continue to reinvent the look. Heck, even butterfly-and-rainbows-loving pop superstar Mariah Carey — who perfectly personifies the Barbiecore aesthetic — couldn’t resist the pull. She recently revealed that she recorded a secret grunge album in the ’90s and plans to release it soon.
It’s not merely a nostalgia play. There are younger fashion designers bursting onto the scene who are innovating the expression of grunge. For instance, Charles Jeffrey updates the aesthetic with his colorfully gender-fluid approach. His label, Charles Jeffrey Loverboy, touts spectacular, eye-catching tartan skirts and miniskirts with grungy leather detailing. (I have one in my closet, and it’s my favorite item of clothing.) Grunge is still here. And now it’s queer. Get used to it.
“At the heart of it, grunge is timeless, thrifty, and comfortable,” says Katie Ashton, a grunge devotee who works in music public relations in the United Kingdom. “Regardless of whatever is churning through the trend cycle, grunge always finds a way to stay relevant.”
Lauren Brown, founder of the site Fashion Grunge, says that while the style may be experiencing a resurgence, for its devoted fans, grunge has “never really gone anywhere.” Marked by earthy colors like black, brown, forest greens, dark reds, and deep purples, grunge basically becomes timely every autumn. Brown cites specific economic factors for the popularity of grunge — both now and when it first hit the scene.
“There are [currently] some social similarities that do parallel the times of the late ’80s and early ’90s,” Brown explains. “The class inequality, low wages, and rising prices all contributed to the fashion of the time. People shopped in thrift stores and wore clothing longer to save money.” As a recession may be looming, the return to grungy thrift store finds makes complete sense to me.
I have to wonder: In this age of pink and puff, can there a compromise between grunge and glam? Absolutely, according to Brown, who notes that the grunge label originally referred to outsiders unwilling to conform. “It’s possible to be both,” she says, “because glam isn’t [just] red carpet chic. While glam and grunge are two distinct looks, the fun of fashion and expression is that you can create your own genre and not be defined by one aesthetic or set of rules.”
If you want to fully embrace grunge, the key (as I discovered back in fifth grade) continues to be a strong pair of boots. Brown says that the hallmark piece of a grunge look — typically Doc Martens — has an obvious reason for becoming a staple. “There were utilitarian reasons,” she says, “to wear flannels, long johns, and boots when you live in a cold, wet climate such as the Pacific Northwest, where a lot of the [grunge] bands were formed.”
Flannel, another grunge staple, can easily be dressed up or down, whether you’re accessorizing it with jewelry or maintaining an authentic approach. Luanna Perez-Garreaud, a Peruvian-born grunge fan based in New York, believes it’s best to build a grunge-inspired look around a mainstay accessory or piece of clothing like vintage washed jeans, Chuck Taylors, chunky sweaters, and plaid skirts.
“Don’t overthink it,” Perez-Garreaud advises. “Just go to a thrift store, and thrift anything that screams ’90s, is comfortable, and of course, suits your style.”
Anne McCarthy is a freelance writer who splits her time between the U.S. and Europe. She has contributed to the BBC, The Guardian, Wired, Cosmopolitan, and Business Insider. Find her on Twitter @annemitchmcc.
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