Stores Similar To Bebe

I'm from one generation to the grunge hit hard by hail fall cacereño when we thought all was lost. Too far by age of the alleged modernez and irreverence of the Madrid scene, especially the unbearable lightness of being hippie-corregrises post Franco, there was nothing to stir us as it is supposed to be in full early youth.
And suddenly, we look to the rainy English to direct our interest to rain elsewhere in the world: Seattle. Kurt Cobain and his family put us in a shaker and began to stir without mercy. Here we are ... entretenednos!. Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Hole (especially the fabulous Celebrity Skin) we confirmed that there were other worlds, there were other people in other parts of the world also felt that nothing existential. Was no longer the No Future Punk in the late seventies, not the angst of Generation X (whatever that is), was another matter. Was better.
No future, no way out, there is no possibility that this society that overwhelms you consume will give you the slightest chance to participate in this paradise. There is another option: have fun. No matter what you wear. It only matters that you a good time.



And it was the reign of the shirts for more t-shirts, lumberjack shirts, jackets, sweat pants, the jeans torn, the wool hats in summer. Grunge (or whatever then be understood as such), had become visible to the world when it was years exist in the working-class suburbs of big cities.
And as with everything, the market ate it. The video for Smell like teen spirit of Nirvana, repeated ad nauseam on MTV planetary populated the streets of dirty hair, t-shirts and Converse on who knew better times. Marc Jacobs became known to the general public precisely because of its luxe reinterpretation of what was happening off the catwalk. The whole world breathed again. A new fashion had arrived. Everything was labeled and in place. It was (again) spring in El Corte Ingles.
At that time the temple which was headed our steps daily El Ziel. Suffice it to say to get a brief idea of \u200b\u200bthe kitten's fur were proud that a skier Barbie pink dress hanging behind the bar. A declaration of intent. The parish was divided mainly into two: first, the survivors of the 80's (those who are everywhere), advanced in years (not in meats) and joint in hand always willing to give the plate with his adventures past anyone. I saw the Ramones at 80, I was at the concert Hardwood or I was one of the punks who threw eggs and burst (creating an indelible trauma hundreds of girls) Hombres G concert in Cathedral Square. Well look that well. I, me, me, me ...



On the other hand, was (were) the new breed, a mix of university students and ni-nis of all walks of life united by love of hashish and Mahoney and, of course, to grunge. Between joints (many) games Parcheesi and Trivial or long silences or introspective conversations peppered with phrases that later would become our personal history ("how people ...") spent the afternoon and evening of our tiny existence.
Of the few things I remember clearly at that time opiate (The Zielo was in some way, as the 80's, if you remember everything you have not lived) is that every evening at nine o'clock or maybe a little before, appeared at the bar a girl, probably Romanian, selling flowers, lighters or directly through the city begging. However, in the Zielo not. Bar Girls (solidarity like none), he served in silence, with hardly a nod in greeting, a Coca Cola. She sat on a stool, alone, without speaking to anyone, was carefully removed the scarf that covered his head, lit a cigar and drank his Coke. Slowly. No hurry. Was probably enjoying its best time of day. I also remember his clothes. That was the absolute best for us. Grunge was authentic.
When he finished his drink, turned to make handkerchief, he thanked just not talking to the girls and (never paid because the invited always) out of the bar. A street. To continue to sell flowers, or lighters or beg. A whatever. In daily life stopped for a moment, I suppose, would be all day waiting.



And we kept our existential nothingness, with our "everything sucks" with our discussions on the Subcomandante Marcos or the authenticity or otherwise of all that was Manu Chao. All this before returning to our homes with heating and hot water, with dinner and full bar with clean and comfortable bed and well enough to remain grunge.
Currently, there is little of that grunge that filled our lives in the turbulent (nothing to do with what came after) early 90's. Surely the strangest decade there have been few. Now on the street fashion is dictated by four bloggers hair in the wind and winners of all four players. Now street fashion chains are buying low cost. Now everything is more civilized. Where to stop!



Now what are the real grunge bringing the Romanian who sell flowers or rings Chinese vendors that cause seizures. While people no longer want to pretend to be poor. People either want to appear more rich than it is. Many of the inhabitants of El Zielo are down (we declined) a hell of a permanent contract and tie daily. Some have fallen into the clutches of a dark god and call their children Nachete, Gonzalete or Tristana. Marc Jacobs
now makes mess for Vuitton and Courtney Love photos with Karl. And that lucky. The usual
remain where they were. On the street. Lighters or selling flowers or begging.
Everything in its place. All quiet.

With the light out it's less Dangerous

Here We Are now entertain us I feel stupid

and contagious Here We Are
now entertain us ...