I walk the line

It’s Friday. A denim Friday, mind you. A rare occurrence in this office only granted to those who make charitable contributions to a national umbrella nonprofit. This reminds me of my brief attendance at a private school that gave “free dress day” to those who volunteered on a regular basis. Why should we have to coerce people to give back to society with incentives? Doesn’t this defy the intrinsic value of giving?

But this is beside the point. Because of my early introduction into the workplace, I only own two pairs of functioning jeans (gasp). I bought my second pair a couple of weekends ago at a department store, a place I hope to visit twice a year. I adore some of the new trends, i.e. the dark, skinny jeans, pea coats, and fabric headbands. I hold my breath when I walk by displays of leggings and short jackets. Why must we bring back the Blossom and the Debbie Gibson? Holy Jebus, I don’t want to be reminded of my awkward phase, my daily middle school battle with side ponytails and skyscraper bangs.

The skinny jean, though nice, is a stretch for me. My badonkadonk disagrees with the sizing. I look like a finalist for an “In Living Color” Fly Girl dance off. This is not right. While my arse was engaged in a battle with these jeans in the juniors’ dressing room, I overheard some sighs in the room next to me. A red-headed girl, probably 15 years old, was helping her friend pick out a new outfit. Said friend was wearing said skinny jeans, black high-tops intentionally untied, and layers of derelict candy coated in flannel. Her friend just nodded her head, “Man, Emily, you look so emo.”

tractus derelictus located here

Emo. Emo is a look? The music started in the mid 90s. By 2000, it was manufactured and shifted into mainstream music. Somehow, we’ve moved from Sunny Day Real Estate to My Chemical Romance in a span of ten years. And the kiddies are eating it up, metaphorically speaking. Because adults like me should not mix up emotion like excitement with their emotion that is apathy, a detached hipness and smug. It’s the same type of excitement I had when I latched on to Nirvana and Mudhoney, listening to Pearl Jam in the dark and relishing in every single lyric. How I could trace the lyrics to “Black” in the darkness on my bedroom wall that I wished was painted black but my parents just don’t understand motives such as this because they are against me and the world is against me. And Pearl Jam understands this. That type of excitement - the kind that wears Doc Martens and ripped jeans, which evidently is making a comeback.

I can’t hold that much against the whole emo resurgence. At least Nirvana’s Lovebuzz gets radio play now. When this album was released, all that was played on the radio was Michael Jackson’s “Black or White.” For this, my little emo kiddies, I thank you.

Related Links:

The Great Grunge Hoax: Wikipedia blurb about the Grunge Speak article featured in the NYT and debunked by Thomas Frank in "The Baffler." Another example of an adult's attempt at breaking youth's cultural code and its backfiring.

Also, I'm eagerly awaiting the release of American Hardcore. See this trailer now.