In the opening of Larry Clark’s gritty and controversial 1995 film Kids, we meet two careless troublemaker teens; Telly and Casper. Their busted Chuck Taylors and baggy pants make the two immediately recognisable as delinquent skaters. The kind of kids you’d see copping a mouthful from a middle-aged woman in Rundle Mall. Or, the kinds of kids who we see urinate directly onto the streets of New York City just because they can.

Outside of a small convenience store, Casper rolls down one leg of his oversized JNCO chinos, tucking it into his sneaker, and unzipping his fly. Inside, Telly distracts the confused store owner by repetitively asking for “dis digg”, whilst Casper calmly shoves 40 ounces of alcohol down his baggy pants and strides toward the exit. Not complacent in mere petty crime, Casper smug-facedly taunts the owner by shouting “he said ‘this d**k’, motherf****r” before running out of the store.

This scene perfectly illustrates the utilitarian nature of skate fashion. Primarily, skate fashion revolves around loose-fitting clothing for the reason of moveability. Often, you will see skaters donning Dickies 874s double, or triple, sized up. The added bonus? Now you can comfortably stroll out of a convenience store with a 40oz bottle tucked in your pant leg.

For the 20th anniversary of Kids, Supreme released a capsule which included this iconic scene on multiple pieces. The film caused major controversy for its catalogue of teenage delinquency ranging from drugs to sex, all painted on a backdrop of run-down apartments and graffitied skateparks. The film’s enduring legacy makes it stand as an authentic look at New York skate culture.

However, the raw authenticity of the movie is driven primarily by the fact that many of the actors were discovered on the street. The late Justin Pierce, who plays Casper, was discovered skateboarding in a Manhattan park. So, when Casper appears on-screen wearing a baggy Independent tee and low-rise Converse, we are for the most part witnessing Pierce’s personal style. A style that had been fostered through his love for skating, and a style that reflects a broken upbringing, Pierce in real life was that same social outcast we see on screen, preferring to spend his time doing drugs, skating, and stealing.

Delinquency - clearly - is deeply woven into the fabric of skate culture. Insofar that the very clothes skaters wear function to enable fringe behaviours. Heavy denim like Dickies carpenter jeans, whilst boasting impressive durability against concrete scrapes, also happen to provide a roomy fit and numerous deep pockets.

A lengthy cultural tie to delinquency has found skateboarders mould a fashion identity around being social outcasts.

Often exhibiting scuffed shoes and torn pants, skateboarders channel a devil-may-care attitude through their clothes. An attitude that carries through to their lifestyle.

It is no surprise that skaters have become a progressively alienated group within conventional society. I believe, for many, that’s part of the appeal even. Yet, no other subculture seems to integrate societal alienation so brazenly into their culture, and quite literally wear it.

Nihilism lies at the heart of many counterculture movements, and these attitudes are quite often embodied in the style of those groups. Yet, functionality is often sacrificed in favour of sending a message.

The original Vivienne Westwood era punks traded moveability and longevity for tight leather jackets and collages of at-home Frankensteined patterns. Whereas skate culture has insisted on being driven by a utilitarian perspective. Instead of focusing on aesthetics, skate fashion chooses to present its nihilism through functionality.

There is clearly a very special relationship between delinquency and skate culture. One that has fostered an immediately recognisable, and ultimately timeless style. Yet, its greatest success is so accurately portraying the nihilistic attitudes of misunderstood youth with a whisper rather than a shout.