A brief history of British subculture

Taken from FORTY, a retrospective of Kickers history and influence created in partnership with Document Studios.

Post-war, where conflict was no longer a part of everyday life, violence moved on to the silver screen. A 1950s wave of alien invasion movies and apocalyptic space adventures filled a hazy spot in the collective consciousness, ludicrous and fantastical as they were. Then, in 1955, a film called Rebel Without a Cause made the notion of conflict internal (and hormonal). A new phenomenon, neither a child nor an adult, the teenager was a state of conflict in itself. Until then, generations dressed the same and listened to the same music. But the world couldn’t – and wouldn’t – be the same. This was a time of breakaway. James Dean became its avatar, a restless youth that couldn’t reform.

In the opening sequence, Dean (as character Jim Stark) wears a suit, which gradually deconstructs to a white t-shirt (regarded as underwear at the time), a red Harrington jacket and blue jeans. This was the first era in history when turning heads meant dressing down, not up. Jeans became a code for disaffected youngsters, who hijacked their original design purpose as functional clothing for blue-collar workers. Yes, Marlon Brando had worn jeans and a leather jacket in the 1953 film The Wild One, but arguably what made Rebel Without a Cause more disconcerting was the comparative abstraction of Dean’s character compared to Brando’s heavily defined badass. His rage was more cerebral.

 “A new phenomenon, neither a child nor an adult, the teenager was a state of conflict in itself. Until then, generations dressed the same and listened to the same music. But the world couldn’t – and wouldn’t – be the same”

So, what made denim’s inherent lack of preciousness perfect for symbolising angst and iron-willed attitude? Well, jeans were trusty and hardwearing – their pockets were riveted – and the indigo colour naturally rubbed off over time, causing each pair to become a creased imprint of its wearer, like a fingerprint in cloth. Plus, the more rough and ready a life you had, the more rough and ready your jeans were. In a society where discretion was the default and respectability the wholesome goal, they were as blatant as rock ’n’ roll (which would go on to adapt jeans as its favourite, and indeed only, trouser). 

Drainpipe jeans were perfect for the scandalous hip-swinging, gyrating debut of Elvis Presley, the first pop star of the 20th century who would arrive as a (dangerous) pin-up and become a cultural phenomenon. “You’d had teenage music before,” the pop historian Jon Savage told The Guardian in a 2014 article. “But Elvis was the first to make music as if it was by teenagers, rather than for teenagers. And he was still a teenager when he made his first record.”

Blue jeans are regarded as an American symbol – prized during the Soviet-era and still frowned upon in North Korea today, where denim can be worn but must be black – but where America led, in Britain we took our time. Even in our transgression, we dress with flourish: after all, Beau Brummell is our menswear template. Our ‘first’ teenagers – and they were just as dangerous – were immaculately tailored Teddy boys. British rebellion carries a large element of showing off. For instance, punk embraced the messiest of dressing – the frayed and the falling apart – but it was wild and fantastic, not derelict. As the strum of guitars gave way to sequencers and acid house in the 1980s, it made total sense that the diktat ‘No trainers’ should enter the vernacular, ruling the nation’s nightclub doors (though it’s just as relevant now). Going out? Look as casual as you like, but make an effort.

That’s where Kickers came in – the solution for getting into The Hacienda. They were desirable, kept you dancing all night and, more importantly, everyone else was wearing them, too. Born in Paris in 1960, out of family business E. Raufast et fils, Kickers were the response to a changing culture that jeans were at the centre of: a world of freedom, sex and the quest for gender and racial equality. What started as rebellion gave way to progressive ways of thinking that would change society forever. Kickers came about as footwear for jeans, and both are totally universal – defined as neither masculine nor feminine. And, like denim’s timeless appeal, the Kick Hi boot has remained virtually unchanged for four decades.

“Kickers were the response to a changing culture that jeans were at the centre of: a world of freedom, sex and the quest for gender and racial equality” 

The Stone Roses soared in 1988 and with them came an evolution of masculinity; rebellion through love over rage. The spirit of the “Second Summer of Love” spilled into the charts, as Perry Boy John Squire’s polo shirt, jeans and Kickers combo gave way to the Baggy look of 1990. Liverpudlian band The Farm put a sheep in billowing jeans, a bucket hat and red Kickers on the cover of their single “Stepping Stone”. Manchester and Liverpool remain altars of British music culture.

In terms of attitude, grunge was the first time that British youngsters relaxed their brand-fetishising tendencies to embrace charity shops and anonymous second-hand clothing. If you think of Kurt Cobain as a phenomenal artist, then he was phenomenal force full stop in this ability to bring about a new attitude. Vintage is still the template, only now at specialised boutiques, not necessarily Sue Ryder. Sixty years on from their dishonourable beginnings, jeans remain a young person’s most valid style weapon in 2015. The generations that gave them their identity might still be wearing them, too, but they’ve earned that right. And it’s likely they won’t be cut anywhere near as skinny.

Dean Mayo Davies was commissioned by Kickers and Document Studios to write this article.