the photographer credited with creating grunge's hair-sweat-and-guitars look. Sub Pop also sent a catalogue to the nation's alternative-rock intelligentsia describing its bands' punk-metal guitar noise as "grunge," the first documented use of the now-ubiquitous term. "It could have been sludge, grime, crud, any word like that," said Jonathan Poneman, a Sub Pop founder.
Grunge stuck, maybe because it so vividly evoked both the black-noise sound and the smelly-caveman look. Ratty rec-room chic has been hibernating since the 70's, emerging from the basement every so often in movies like "River's Edge," "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure" and "Wayne's World."
This generation of greasy Caucasian youths in ripped jeans, untucked flannel and stomping boots spent their formative years watching television, inhaling beer or pot, listening to old Black Sabbath albums and dreaming of the day they would trade in their air guitars for the real thing, so that they, too, could become famous rock-and-roll heroes.
A culture was born.
"Thrifting" is a verb in Seattle. Flannel and leatherette, the boho-hobo staples of second-hand attire, are the basics of a nonfashion statement. A flannel shirt worn around the waist is a precaution against the Pacific Northwest's mercurial climate. Army boots slog effectively through mud. "It wasn't like somebody said, 'Let's all dress like lumberjacks and start Seattle chic!' " Mr. Poneman said. "This stuff is cheap, it's durable, and it's kind of timeless. It also runs against the grain of the whole flashy esthetic that existed in the 80's."