I got grunge

I clearly remember thinking way back in the mid 1990s that I was bummed the fashion of my youth revolved around the grunge music scene.

For a glitter gal, the lure of the Spice Girls is stronger than the lure of Nirvana in comparison of their respective FASHIONS.

I spent my college years in boots, jeans, long sweaters, and beanies, as per the fashion of the day.

The generation behind me got faux fur, glitter, and fake eyelashes.

I’m not saying that the music was better.

I’m an alternative rock gal myself.

And I’m not saying glitter is better than plaid jackets.

I’m saying that the 21 year old in me longed for some of the glam and 90s vibe from that period.

And I knew it even back then that the young woman in me was rich and colorful and filled with strength and that she deserved more than the fashion void that was grunge.

That said, I do wonder why my “type” is always lumberjack.

Give me a man in boots, jeans, and a tight plaid flannel shirt and I’m one happy girl!

I mean perhaps, JUST perhaps, my young woman’s psyche started to fixate on the lumberjack type during my formative years immersed in grunge music and I have Pearl Jam to thank for my affection of all things big and bulky and brawny.

I’m not complaining.

In the roulette of life thankfully I landed on 1980s baby instead of 1880s baby.

I got grunge.

The Pacific Northwest.

And craft beer!