I correctly pegged that jacket at 1990s vintage even before the sales copy at Urban Outfitters confirmed this.
I knew this because starting in the 1990s and continuing today, the kinds of kids who wear those hideous, tone-deaf jackets are the same ones who call me a boring old fart when I pointedly refuse to throw them spare change while they are wearing obvious knockoffs of my old clothes from the Seventies and Eighties.
I’m talking brand new yet weirdly off-register Dead Kennedys t-shirts, worn by teenagers begging on the street.
When I still drank I used to yell at them:
“In my day, we didn’t have hair gel or dyes in twenty colors at every drugstore! We had to use Easter egg kits and sugar water! WE HAD JOBS, TOO! Brats…”