Fashion is a funny fucking thing. One minute you are hot shit, the pinnacle of chic; the next minute you are a total kook, a painful reminder of what once was cool and now simply is not. In this age of international media and digital piping, the duration of vogue can be painfully short, and the harder you try, the more quickly you must move with the winds of change. Still, there are a limited amount of possibilities when dressing the human form, and nostalgia, conveniently, is a rich condiment for the creatively limited. Retro this, vintage that, throwback what; at one point or another even the goofiest periods of garmentry are eventually paraded down the cat walk for a second, third, or fourth round in an attempt to be fresh and hip. The key, simply, is timing.

The early 90's were a breakthrough period for that bastard child of American culture: skateboarding. The 70's smoking in the gutter, the 80's banished into neon hell, this third resurgence of skate style was pushed largely by an unlikely assemblage of aging freestyle skaters and self conscious BMXers, and the results were a painfully ironic pressure flip in the parkinglot of our adolescence. Small wheels and big pants reigned supreme, grunge hipsters posed for MTV, Big Brother magazine captured farts in the wind, Spike Jonze blew up, hip hop blew out, and so on. It might have been a complete disaster, but you can't kill the black heart of skateboarding, and things eventually evolved into a more respectable condition. Nevertheless, with the exception of those motherfucking ravers, it is extremely difficult for most of us to look back on this period of time.

Maybe you've heard of Mark Lewman. Maybe you haven't. He has remained largely under the radar, despite his omnipresence in the aforementioned scene and beyond. He is a man of a thousand psuedonyms and a million stories and a billion dollars worth of ideas. I won't get into his pedigree here, because that would prematurely eject the payload we are about to offer. You may do the research on your own, know only this: Mr. Lewman was the bemused recipient of truckloads of early 90's swag. Personally passed promotional items by everyone from Rocco to Rick Howard to Matt Hoffman, Lew got his hands on some hot gear. While not all of it as offensive as the ensemble* our very own Paul Hastings is modeling above (some of the tshirts, at least, are still pretty cool), it definitely wasn't anything he wanted to hold onto. So he bequeathed it to sakebomb. Originally we were going to unload it in Japan, but Lew's a big dude and your average little Nihonjin could swim in his clothes (notably amplified by the 90's trend for XXLing to hell).

So now we are going to auction it all off on ebay. And if you are smart, Jackbottom, you will pay good money for it. Why? It's straight from the source, and it's gonna be cool again someday. Dogtown is enjoying its moment now, sure, and those TA vans make you feel sharp walking your silly ass down Venice Beach, but what next? What goes around, comes around. And when the cultural import of Big Brother and Plan B and 101 and OG Fuct and Chocolate are finally, briefly, perversely recognized and celebrated, you will be fucking stoked to profile in your very own, certified, piece of Mark Lewman's clothing. Trust me.

* 101 skateboards Natas/pentagram shirt, Orange Rocco-era Fuct pants with cut off bottoms

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