Clarks

I was a terrible Mod. Like most teenagers in the south coast UK town where I lived, signing up for the Mod Revival in the autumn of 1978 meant sleuthing out the approximately right stuff—trim polo shirts, a 1960s suit, bad loafers—from charity shops for pennies. There was little in the way of rigor. With real fish-tailed US Army Surplus parkas already in short supply and with prices rocketing, I found an ex-German army version for £9 that was not at all right. But in Mod-dom, wearing the wrong shoes was an egregious error. The Clarks Desert Boots I got right. I bought them new. They were a dark brown and, if I remember, cost £19. I wore them into the ground that autumn.