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Vice Blog

SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS WERE CHOLOS

Early-90s fashion wasn't just about plaid shirts, ripped jeans, and suicide. In Spain at least there was a group of people who came to define the social (and sociopathic) inclinations of the entire generation. They had many names depending on where in the country you lived: Quillo, calorro, pelao, cani, bakala and mascachapas, to name a few. But personally, i knew them as Cholos.

Cholos' reputation preceeded them. They were ultraviolent members of the extreme right, who grew out of the skinhead movement, but whose music of choice was the early 90s hard techno known as makina. That said, most of them were just in it for the look. (To this day, people are quick to scare when they see a bomber jacket--but I've seen hundreds of bums wearing them, and I wouldn't conflate homelessnes with holocaust denial).

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What was really violent was the way they dressed. The boys were skinny to the point of anorexia, though every gang always had the one with deltoids like a leg of ham, generally waiting for you in the parking lot. They'd buy their clothes in sizes best suited for a premature baby, and both boys and girls would drip with gold chains and brooches stamped with unintelligable insignia.

And as unlikely as it sounds, they wore flares (it's always good to flash a bit of sock) with the seams covered up by a flourescent stripe. If you're having trouble picturing this, think about Kappa pants, but in denim.

The girls rocked undercuts and their hair was alternately dyed blue-black or platinum blonde. Spain back then was hell for omphalophobes, as midriffs were constantly on display. Oh and a tight butt doubled both as a handy provocation to start a fight, and as a handier handrest for their boyfriends.

Female shoes were dizzying platforms, curtained off by white nylon trousers, often with logos across the bum. And while we're in the vicinity, g-strings went pretty much up to their necks. What else? The make up? Thick black eyeliner drawn on while looking in the wing mirrors of their boyfriends' Seat Ibizas.

A whole industry sprang up around them and their tastes: Their clubs became the sonic cathedrals of the Costa del Sol. They started their own clothing lines, and shops, and most of all, they showed the world that with enough hairgel and a set of clippers, any haircut imaginable is possible to pull off. These days, if you're lucky enough to spot one in a provincial town, they might look ridiculous to you. But in a way, to look the way they did took some fucking balls.

THE ORTITZ
ILLUSTRATIONS BY VITO MONTOLIO