In the mid 1980s, my friend Duane and I picked up a couple of old hippie shirts at a thrift store. Wide collars, soft and stretched from years of wear. To us, they felt like something dug up from another lifetime. The late 60s weren’t even twenty years gone, but at 16 that was forever. We wore them for an afternoon and just laughed, like we’d stepped into a world that didn’t belong to us.
Twenty years doesn’t stretch the way it used to. It’s like some kid today digging through a thrift bin and pulling out a shirt from 2005—a Von Dutch hat, a Livestrong bracelet, baggy jeans—holding it up like it’s from another planet. To me, that stuff still feels more or less contemporary.
