Ah, the heady GenX/slacker days, when we were mad as hell, and we had to go lie down for a while. We lived off coffee and second-hand stores and cigarettes and irony, and to hell with anyone who told us differently. And then, one day some kid showed up at the coffee bar sucking on a soother, and Courtney Love was on the cover of a fashion magazine, and "chick music" once again meant granola girls with acoustic guitars.

The nose ring, by the way, was a fake.