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Remember when a training top could turn into a cultural artefact? We dive into the messy, joyful sprawl of 90s fashion—baggy jeans from the Madchester scene, the Britpop uniform of parkas and polos, and that Umbro moment Liam Gallagher made immortal without even trying. Along the way we swap stories about shell suits and schoolyard myths, Adidas Poppers that begged to be ripped, and the strange power of logos that moved from football terraces to the high street overnight.
We trace the rise, fall, and revival of brands that defined a decade: Kappa’s bold taping, Fila’s loud colours, Fred Perry’s staying power, Reebok’s street credibility, and LA Gear’s flashing trainers that turned every step into theatre. Some names faded into trivia (Lecoq Sportif’s near‑collapse, Fruit of the Loom’s Mandela‑effect logo), others became evergreen wardrobe anchors like Adidas Sambas and Ben Sherman. We get honest about cheap chic, why certain pieces felt aspirational even when they weren’t expensive, and how subcultures—rave, Britpop, terrace culture—decided the dress code long before magazines did.
Accessories and extras mattered just as much. Casio watches (including the mythical remote‑control model) sat beside head sports bags the size of small tents. Locker rooms smelled of Lynx Java and Tempest, while hypercolor tees betrayed every sweaty dancefloor secret. We touch on women’s 90s looks from All Saints’ minimal utility to platform hedonism and double‑denim cheek, and laugh at hairstyles that became heritage—curtains, mullets, perms—plus one constant reminder that image is identity: Brian May’s hair as brand.
We’re still figuring out what you want from us—deep dives into single moments or big sweeping nostalgia—so we’re inviting you to steer the format. Tell us the 90s piece you still own (or wish you did), the trend you’d resurrect, and the one you’d ban forever. If this trip down the high street of memory made you smile, follow the show, share it with a mate, and leave a quick review so more 90s kids can find us. What would you bring back first?
By Andrew and LiamRemember when a training top could turn into a cultural artefact? We dive into the messy, joyful sprawl of 90s fashion—baggy jeans from the Madchester scene, the Britpop uniform of parkas and polos, and that Umbro moment Liam Gallagher made immortal without even trying. Along the way we swap stories about shell suits and schoolyard myths, Adidas Poppers that begged to be ripped, and the strange power of logos that moved from football terraces to the high street overnight.
We trace the rise, fall, and revival of brands that defined a decade: Kappa’s bold taping, Fila’s loud colours, Fred Perry’s staying power, Reebok’s street credibility, and LA Gear’s flashing trainers that turned every step into theatre. Some names faded into trivia (Lecoq Sportif’s near‑collapse, Fruit of the Loom’s Mandela‑effect logo), others became evergreen wardrobe anchors like Adidas Sambas and Ben Sherman. We get honest about cheap chic, why certain pieces felt aspirational even when they weren’t expensive, and how subcultures—rave, Britpop, terrace culture—decided the dress code long before magazines did.
Accessories and extras mattered just as much. Casio watches (including the mythical remote‑control model) sat beside head sports bags the size of small tents. Locker rooms smelled of Lynx Java and Tempest, while hypercolor tees betrayed every sweaty dancefloor secret. We touch on women’s 90s looks from All Saints’ minimal utility to platform hedonism and double‑denim cheek, and laugh at hairstyles that became heritage—curtains, mullets, perms—plus one constant reminder that image is identity: Brian May’s hair as brand.
We’re still figuring out what you want from us—deep dives into single moments or big sweeping nostalgia—so we’re inviting you to steer the format. Tell us the 90s piece you still own (or wish you did), the trend you’d resurrect, and the one you’d ban forever. If this trip down the high street of memory made you smile, follow the show, share it with a mate, and leave a quick review so more 90s kids can find us. What would you bring back first?