Golden Age Hip Hop (From a Gen Z Perspective)
Culture
In this section, I’m diving into the TV shows people were watching, the hairstyles that defined the streets (like the iconic high-top fade), and the magazines like The Source and Hip Hop Connection that connected fans before the internet. All of it painted a bigger picture of what hip hop meant to people style, expression, and community.
High Top Fade
I’ve always seen the high top fade as way more than just a haircut it was a full on cultural statement. Back in the late '80s and early '90s, it was like a crown for young Black men, especially in hip hop. It represented pride, individuality, and confidence. Rappers like Big Daddy Kane, Kid 'n Play, and Will Smith (on Fresh Prince) rocked it like it was armor.
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The high top fade wasn’t just about style it was about standing tall (literally and symbolically) in a time where Black culture was pushing back and rising up. It was bold, clean, and unapologetic. For a generation carving out their identity through music, fashion, and art, the high top fade was like a badge of honor.
What made it even cooler was how much variety there was with the style. Some dudes kept it normal while others added their own style, like Bobby Brown, who had the high top fade with a slope, or a sharp part line shaved into the side.
The high top fade stood for more than fashion,it reflected a moment when Black youth were stepping into the spotlight, shaping culture through music, fashion, and attitude. Even today, it’s still iconic, and when people bring it back, it’s like they’re paying tribute to an era where style had real meaning.
Dapper Dan (MCM)
Learning about Dapper Dan completely changed how I looked at fashion. This dude was way ahead of his time. He’s from Harlem, and back in the '80s, he basically flipped the script on what luxury fashion could be especially for the Black community and the hiphop scene.
He wasn’t just rocking Gucci or MCM he was taking those logos and completely remixing them, turning them into full blown custom outfits. Oversized jackets, tracksuits, coats etc.
He made outfits for legends like LL Cool J, Big Daddy Kane, Eric B. & Rakim, and even Mike Tyson. His shop in Harlem was like a fashion hub for hiphop royalty.
Discovering MCM felt like uncovering a hidden gem from an era where luxury and street style first started to merge. Back then, MCM wasn’t just a brand it was astatus. Rocking an MCM outfit, in the late ’80s-early 90s let people know you had taste and status. It had that flashy, gold studded, leather heavy vibe that perfectly matched the energy of hip hop’s rise loud, bold, and unapologetic.
MCM was able to balance that luxury European look with a streetwise attitude that totally connected with the Black community. Rappers and hustlers wore it proudly, turning it into a cultural symbol. You’ll see it in old school photos, music videos, or even in shows like Raising Kanan, it instantly tells you, this person had clout.
From a Gen Z lens, MCM feels like the blueprint for the designer streetwear crossover we see everywhere now like how people wear Off White, Balenciaga, or Louis Vuitton today. But back then, MCM was ahead of its time. It wasn’t just about flexing wealth, it was about identity, respect, and being part of a movement.
To me, wearing MCM now feels like tapping into that legacylike paying homage to a time when hip hop was shaping fashion just as much as it was shaping music.
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The Source Magazine
The Source wasn’t about quick trends or viral moments. It was deep people didn’t just skim through it, they studied it. From the iconic “5 Mic” album ratings to in depth interviews and cultural commentary, it gave fans something real to hold onto.
It created conversations, debates, and actual human interaction. People would gather in barbershops, on street corners, in school halls and record stores, talking about what they read. Even if you didn’t know each other, if you were both into hip hop and had something to say about an article or review in The Source, you clicked. That was community.
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This kind of thing brought together people who might not normally interact. Maybe someone who was all about conscious rap and someone else who was deep into gangsta rap would both pick up The Source and end up in a real conversation about music, culture, politics even fashion.
It wasn’t filtered by for you pages or hashtags. It was raw, real, and based on a shared love of the culture.
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Today, we’re “connected” more than ever, but it doesn’t feel the same. Social media is more about scrolling than connecting. You might follow someone for years and never say a word to them. Everyone’s in their own bubble, fed content that reinforces what they already like. That randomness, that real life discovery? It’s missing.
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The Source created a space where hip-hop fans could meet in the middle. It gave us something to rally around, to debate over, and to bond through. And honestly, that kind of shared experience is something we’re really lacking today. I wish there were more spaces now that felt like what The Source gave people back then.
Hip Hop Connection Magazine
Hip Hop Connection was the UK’s first and longest running hip-hop magazine, starting back in the late '80s. I saw old covers with everyone from Public Enemy to Cypress hill to Mobb Deep. It was like a bridge between both worlds giving UK fans access to the US scene before the internet made that stuff instant.
HHC gave people something to rally around. You had fans from different walks of life maybe they didn’t hang in the same places or run in the same circles but they’d all hit up the same shops, buy the same magazine, and talk about the same interviews or album reviews. That created a bond. and if you went to record stores or shows, you'd end up connecting with others who read HHC too. That’s real life interaction organic social networking before “social networks” were even a thing.
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​Now, I know Tim Westwood’s legacy is mixed for obvious reasons, but back in the late 80s-90s, he was one of the main UK DJs spinning American hip hop on mainstream radio. He played artists like Ice Cube, De La Soul, and Mobb Deep, when that wasn’t really happening on mainstream UK stations. Combine that with Hip Hop Connection covering those same artists in print, and suddenly, the UK had a whole underground network keeping them locked into the global hip hop movement.
As someone from Gen Z who’s used to everything being a tap away, it’s crazy to think how dedicated fans had to be back then. You couldn’t just search up lyrics or stream an album, you hat to get and head to a shop and locate this . It wasn’t just reviews and interviews either, they had deep think pieces, underground artist spotlights, and breakdowns of culture, fashion, graffiti, and even politics. It really respected the art form.
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Yo MTV Raps
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Before algorithms, before YouTube recommendations, Yo MTV Raps was the way people around the world connected with the culture. And even though I didn’t grow up with it, learning about it made me realize just how powerful and necessary it was for hip-hop’s global takeover.
Yo! MTV Raps wasn’t just a music show it was a cultural hub. You’d see your favorite MCs rockin’ gold chains, reppin’ their cities, and just being unapologetically themselves on screen. It gave people a real look into the style, attitude, and everyday life of hip-hop.
Whether it was an interview with Big Daddy Kane or a performance by N.W.A, the show gave artists a platform to express themselves beyond just the music.
The crazy thing is it wasn’t just airing in the U.S. It was worldwide. People from the U.K. to Germany to South Africa were tuning in. That reach helped plant the seeds of hip hop across the globe, and today we see the results of that hip hop influencing everything from fashion to politics in places far from its birthplace.
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What stands out to me the most is how it brought people together. Back then, there was no social media. Watching Yo! MTV Raps was a community experience. You’d talk about it at school, mimic the dances, or argue about who had the best bars. That kind of shared experience is something I feel like we miss today. Social media connects us, yeah, but it doesn’t always bond us the same way.
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To me, Yo! MTV Raps represents a time when hip-hop was raw, fresh, and growing—and it needed a space to breathe and be seen. That show didn’t just document hip-hop history, it helped make it.
4o
