Now Hear This — What We Remember Most From the 1990s

For anyone who knows me, most of my pop culture references are rooted in the 1980s. The movies that helped me through my teen angst years were those of John Hughes.

I thought that he was able to poetically encapsulate the microcosm of high school through The Breakfast Club. The ennui I profoundly felt as a 16-year-old with a rather unfortunate mohawk — cut myself and not by a professional— can always be brought back if I hear a Smiths or Siouxsie and the Banshees song from that new wave era.

It’s great that so many cable channels like CNN and VH1 devote hours of programming to the concept of the impact of a decade. Thus miniseries like The Eighties or the recent documentary on Studio 54 are big hits.

I recently started reflecting on another decade that shaped me personally — the 1990s. I was in my twenties and moved around geographically from my undergraduate years in Florida to grad school in New York City and then the time I spent working in Miami and Los Angeles.

Since most of my colleagues at the Dallas PaperCity offices were born in the 1980s and spent their teenage years in the 1990s, I thought why not make this week’s Now Hear This office question an ode to that decade that brought us Grunge – both music and fashion – O.J. in a white Bronco slow chase and Seinfeld?

It helped fuel my writing this week since I was invited to a Mariah Carey concert, the first on her new Caution tour, on Wednesday evening. Hearing “Vision of Love” was all that I needed to be immediately transported back to 1990. Now, to the question: What do you remember most from the 1990s?

Christina Geyer, Dallas Editor in Chief

My childhood is the 1990s? So this is a tough question. There are too many memories to count.

I do remember one time — perhaps I was in third grade —  my dad surprised me after school with tickets to see Hanson at the Hollywood Bowl. It was my first real concert, and while I can’t remember exactly what I was wearing, I’m sure it was my Limited Too best.

Also high on the list of 1990s memories is the Spice Girls. Much like any girl who was an adolescent during this time, we would “play” Spice Girls on the playground. A group of us girls — this was in the sixth grade, mind you — would hang out by the handball courts and pretend to be the Spice Girls.

We knew all the songs by heart, and learned the full dance to “Spice Up Your Life.” I was always Posh Spice — because I liked wearing dresses and had brown hair. Given Posh Spice’s rise to fashion and style fame, I’d say I picked the best Spice.

Rebecca Sherman, Home Design Editor

I was really into wearing Patagonia in the 1990s. A boyfriend had introduced me to the world of mountaineering, climbing and backcountry skiing in the late 1980s, and I owned some of the original clothing and equipment made by the legendary mountaineer Yvonne Chouinard before it was rebranded into Patagonia.

My closet bulged with bright jackets, windbreakers, pants, sweaters and button-down shirts, all emblazoned with the label. I wore them anywhere I could get away with it. During the 1990s, wearing Patagonia in Dallas meant you were an insider of sorts, part of the small cadre of people who traveled outside the city limits to remote locations in search of adventure.

And there was no better extreme weather gear to be found. Once when I got lost for hours in a blizzard skiing Rabbit Ears Peak in Colorado and narrowly found my way out before sundown, my distraught boyfriend said the one thing that had reassured him was that I was wearing Patagonia.

My relationship eventually ended, along with most of my wilderness adventures. Patagonia went mainstream, and by the late 1990s, I think you could even buy it in department stores. But a big collection of Patagonia jackets remained in my closet well into the mid-2000s, and I wore them often.

A day of reckoning came when I donned my favorite hooded blue Patagonia jacket with contrasting lavender mesh lining for a shopping trip with my college-age niece. The boyfriend had long since vanished, but this jacket had stood by me on all sorts of occasions. My niece took one look at it and exclaimed disapprovingly, “That’s so nineties!”

Until that moment, I had always considered Patagonia to be a sort of timeless look, hardly Chanel but classic in its own nerdy way. With a pang of embarrassment and loss, I took the jacket off and reached for something else to wear.

She was right — it was time to start living in the 21st century. Soon after, I boxed up all my Patagonia and took it to Goodwill.

Lisa Collins Shaddock, Senior Editor

I moved four times in the 1990s and spent half of those years overseas, so my memories of the decade are broken into distinct categories. That being said, the typical 1990s kid was more or less the same everywhere you went. It was truly an era we experienced as a generation — and perhaps a sign of age that I idealize it more and more as years go by!

It also gave us some iconic fashion moments — something I never thought I would say — even though at the time my style idols were Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen. OK, maybe they still kind of are.

As all of my fellow 1990s kids, I could go on for hours talking about the Spice Girls, Limited Too, inflatable chairs, Friends, gel pens and glitter body wash.

But I will leave you picturing me trying to be cool in cutoff overalls, a backwards hat and a shirt tied around my waist while riding bikes around the neighborhood.

Billy Fong, Culture and Style Editor

The 1990s were a fun time for me having lived in so many cities as I tried figuring out my personal and career paths. The music I would hear at raves and nightclubs was very danceable, but in retrospect not filled with much soul. But hey, what was I expecting at a rave?

The 1990s memory I want to share is when my eyes opened wide to fashion. I was in New Orleans for Mardi Gras. My friends and I were walking by the Gucci store window and stopped dead in our tracks.

I had always known of Gucci as many high school classmates carried the bags and I, in fact, had received a Gucci watch from my parents when I graduated.

That said, the label merely served as an obligatory status symbol, not something that inspired me.

That moment in New Orleans was circa 1994, and Tom Ford had been elevated to the title of creative director. The window simply had a pair of men’s loafers and a pair of women’s clogs. The austere display and the simplicity in design spoke to me on so many levels. I suddenly felt as though I had been missing something.

Tom Ford had created an entire set of characters and lifestyle with those shoes that I aspired to. It was cosmopolitan and glamorous, but somehow had wit, edge and irony, which kept it from seeming vapid.

The following years I became obsessed. The early ads are still saved in a file I often refer to for inspiration from the past. It was the era of new models such as Amber Valleta, Ryan Locke and Dallas’ own Chandra North.

I saved and ate Ramen Pride noodles for weeks in NYC after having moved there for graduate school in 1995 to save for a pair of loafers. My roommate and I made our way to the Madison Avenue store one Saturday morning to buy those shoes.

I felt somewhat like Julia Robert’s prostitute character from Pretty Woman as I had a handful of wadded up bills ready to give the salesperson. I was quickly told that I could be put on the “wait list” for those black beauties with the label’s silver iconic horsebit.

Wait list? What? I had the money and now had to wait to acquire them? It made me want them even more. I remember being at chic Amy Sacco bars like Spy, Wax and Pravda and overhearing conversations like “the red sunglasses? I hear they have a some at the Denver Gucci store. You should call and see if you can score them.”

Remember, this was mid-1990s, and pre-internet consumption. You actually had to be in a city, or at least know someone, if you wanted to purchase an item. Ford had created a scenario of frenzied lust with extremely controlled supply. A genius move that I have not seen done equally well since then.

Maggie Wilson, Events and Partnerships Manager

In my opinion, some of the best movies came from the 1990s. There are way too many movies to be able to list them all, but one of my all-time favorite movies is Pretty Woman. I love both Richard Gere and Julia Roberts and they are so young in this movie. Not to mention, the fashion is so fun in the film.

Linda Kenney, Dallas Account Executive

The 1990s were a busy time. Because our daughters were competitive swimmers, a great deal of time was spent at steamy swim meets. Fashion took a back seat to being cool — temperature-wise — and comfortable.

However, whenever I had the chance to break out, I remember wearing a lot of black as I do now. In homage to nineties style, I wore white socks and open platform sandals. I thought I was chic. I now realize I was the antithesis of chic.

Live and learn.

Caroline Lidl, Dallas Intern

As a proud 1990s baby, I feel that there is much about the decade to brag about — even if I don’t actually remember most of it!

It was an era of pop music and supermodel stardom. If my sister and I weren’t watching Darrin’s Dance Grooves to learn the choreography to Britney Spear’s “Crazy,” we were likely making up our own to songs from our Hit Clips.

The 1990s also brought us some legendary Hollywood couples and iconic red carpet fashion. Supermodels like Naomi Campbell and Cindy Crawford were the “It Girls,” and people were paying attention to celebrity fashion more than ever before.

There are so many 1990s fashion trends that are back and better than ever. Mini backpacks, spaghetti straps, slip dresses, platform shoes, denim and velvet are just a short list of my favorites. Its influence on street style has not been forgotten, and likely won’t be letting up anytime soon.

Meryn Kennedy, Dallas Intern

Since I was barely walking in the ’90s, I don’t have any personal nostalgic memories of the decade, but I do love a good throwback moment. Songwriters like Janet Jackson and movies such as Girl Interrupted are some of my favorite 1990s entertainment. Wish I could have enjoyed them as they were newly popular in the media, but a girl can dream!

If you ever have something you want our team to address, shoot us your thoughts via social media or email (@papercitydallas on Instagram; facebook.com/papercitymagdallas on Facebook; or yours truly, billy@papercitymag.com). Or, better yet send a message to the office, handwritten on the Smythson stationery of your choice — and feel free to include a bottle of Veuve. Champagne really helps get the ideas flowing.

Look for the next installment of Now Hear This from Billy Fong next week.