By now, even if you were in diapers back when Manhattan’s Alphabet City was a discarded, needle-ridden no man’s land, enormous shoulder pads in hot pink strutted up and down Madison Avenue and you could take a cab cross-town for ten bucks, you’ve probably heard of Stephen Sprouse. Kristin Knox looks back at an Eighties fashion icon and his legacy.

If you count yourself amongst the many lured back to the future by this season’s neon smatterings Day-Glo-ing in the windows of the high street, fluorescent spandex for all at American Apparel, graffiti leggings at Topshop and the like, you are wearing Sprouse’s legacy. A legacy which is alive and well today thanks to the heir of Sprouse’s late Eighties, early Nineties title of downtown king of cool, Marc Jacobs.

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