For a Fresh Mix, the Retro Kids Hit Rewind

SPORTING architectural haircuts that haven’t been seen since the Reagan administration and clothes that looked borrowed from the closets of Run-D.M.C. and Theo Huxtable, a group of young black men who call themselves the Retro Kids were turning heads the other evening at a party for Parish, a new urban clothing line.

While most men in the cavernous Hell’s Kitchen loft were clad in standard-issue hip-hop gear (baggy jeans, baggier sweatshirts, gleaming white sneakers), these guys were dressed as if “My Adidas” was still blasting from suitcase-size boomboxes on every corner.

They were not in costume, they made clear, as a constant stream of curious revelers inquired about their get-ups.

“When we walk down the street, people look at us like we’ve been stuck in a time capsule for 15 years,” said Ladaz Marshall, 20, who was wearing snug acid-washed jeans, leopard-print high-top Pumas and a Reebok track jacket from 1988 that he found on eBay. “But this is how we really dress every day. We love it.”

The crew of eight range in age from 18 to 27 and hail from Brooklyn, Queens and Long Island. Many attend Nassau Community College and they all share an obsession for all things ’80s: hip-hop films like “Beat Street,” “Krush Groove” and “Breakin’ ”; ancient gadgets like the beeper; dances like the Running Man and Roger Rabbit.

Lately, the guys and their fierce dedication to a look has attracted the attention of the style world beyond their neighborhoods. They recently posed for the men’s fashion magazine Complex, and Tony Shellman, a founder of Parish, which includes hooded sweatshirts with ’80s motifs like turntables and Good Humor ice cream bars, immediately adopted the Retro Kids as inspiration when he met them at a Fashion Week party earlier this year. “They’re so energetic and creative,” he said. “People may look at them like they’re crazy, but they don’t care.”

Pop Robinson, creative director of Pro Keds, had a similar reaction. Upon noticing them at the Parish party he wondered, “Had I been drinking too much?” But when he realized they were serious, he loved that they were “keeping it real.” The Retro Kids are negotiating with Pro Keds to appear at special events and in an ad campaign. “They validate a brand like Pro Keds because we’re from the old school,” he said.

In a world where the quest for the latest and greatest is all consuming, the Retro Kids, who prefer to rummage through thrift-store bins and scour the Internet for their old-school looks, are an anomaly. While it’s common for white hipsters and fashionistas of all stripes to fill out their wardrobes with vintage finds, the hip-hop generation has looked askance at wearing somebody’s hand-me-downs.

“Your typical hip-hop guy doesn’t like anything dusty on their bodies,” said June Ambrose, a stylist for artists like Jay-Z and the author of “Effortless Style: Make Looking Good Look Easy.” “They want everything crisp, fresh and spanking new.” And, she added: “A lot of these guys grew up in the inner city and they had to wear hand-me-downs. So when you can afford to buy your own clothes, the last thing you want to do is wear somebody else’s.”

But that doesn’t mean rappers are immune to the ’80s revival, which in recent years has spurred many a fashion-minded woman to don leggings, shoulder-baring sweaters and high-waisted denim. Kanye West, Pharrell and Lil Wayne have appeared at events sporting the behemoth ’80s gold chains, known as dookie ropes. And Lil Jon, who said his iPod is chock-full of ’80s hits, such as MC Lyte’s “Cha Cha Cha,” is hunting for the perfect pair of gold Gazelles, early hip-hop’s answer to Jackie O’s signature oversize sunglasses. He can’t, however, see himself going as far as the Retro Kids. Asked if he would trade his extra-large jeans for a form-fitting pair of Lee’s unearthed at a thrift store, he gave an emphatic “no.”

Since most of the ’80s-loving men were in diapers when dookie chains were all the rage, they’re giddily living out a fashion moment they mostly know from pictures. “I feel like I should have been born in the early ’70s,” said Kenneth Barclift, 20, who will begin studying fashion design at the Fashion Institute of Technology in January.

Mr. Barclift, who wears his hair in a Gumby, the once-popular asymmetric style reminiscent of the clay animation character, doesn’t look to today’s rappers for sartorial cues. “They all drive the same cars, wear the same clothes, date the same girls,” he said. He and his friends like to hang out in SoHo because “the majority of the people down there are being themselves,” he said, referring to the mix of characters on the sidewalks downtown. “You go to 125th in Harlem, Jamaica Avenue in Queens, Fulton Street Mall in Brooklyn and everyone’s wearing the same thing — the same jeans, the same Bathing Ape sneakers or Jordans, the same hoodies,” he said. “What happened to individuals?”

It’s not uncommon for pedestrians spotting several of the Retro Kids together to snap photos, they said. “Older people show mad love for the look,” said the group’s youngest member, Steve Smythe Jr., 18, a biology major at Nassau Community College. His closet is filled with pieces once worn by an older brother and a cousin.

Still, the friends attract the occasional critic of their look. “People tell us to get our money up and stop buying old clothes,” said Alan Watson, who was wearing a red, black and white blazer reminiscent of a Mondrian painting. “And some dudes think that we’re gay because we wear tight pants and bright colors.”

Mr. Marshall, a fashion marketing major at Nassau Community College, said he’s used to people questioning his sartorial decisions. He was reared in a predominantly white neighborhood in Rosedale, Queens, and grew up riding skateboards and playing hockey while his black friends took up basketball. At 14 he learned to sew, and was ribbed for that, too. “I didn’t care, because I was doing something I liked,” he said.

The Retro Kids say they would like to create a clothing line, among other things. “We want to start directing videos,” Mr. Barclift said. “We want a reality show. We have a lot of ideas to throw at these networks.” They would love to meet Spike Lee. “I think he’d do an ’80s movie with us,” Mr. Barclift said.

At a recent meeting in Long Island, the young men discussed an ’80s-theme party they were planning for next year. Inevitably, talk turned to the jheri curl — the greasy hairstyle that destroyed many a pillowcase and shirt collar. Who would get one for the sake of authenticity? No one volunteered.

Some things, it seemed, were better left in the past.