Ode to an Alaska fashion icon

Alaska fashion is something you have to see to believe. It’s usually about a decade behind the Lower 48, with some additional quirks: XtraTuf boots, tie-dye shirts and a mind-blowing number of Danskos. But my favorite idiosyncrasy, and one I sorely miss, is the state’s obsession with Carhartt.

“Oh, but we love Carhartt here!” my friends from Utah, California, and Virginia are quick to say. “My husband wears it, he works in construction! We’re rural; we wear it out to the barn! I love their hats and coats, they’re so warm!”

To this well-meaning insistence that we’re all alike in our love of the workwear, I want to scream in teenage fashion, “You don’t understand! You don’t know anything about my life!”

In high school, if I wanted to look put-together but also wanted to roll out of bed five minutes before class started, I would wear my most well-loved Carhartt pants with a pair of scuffed Dr. Martens boots and a neon yellow Alaska Grown hoodie. If you don’t believe me, check the Palmer High yearbooks from the period — the outfit was documented many times.

When it was time to leave for college, I carefully packed my Carhartt bibs. A few weeks into my freshman year, I decided to wear them. Yes, I had noticed they weren’t fashionable at Utah State, but that didn’t matter. Comfort has always been more important than style, and besides — these pants weren’t even very grungy. I stepped up my game and wore a plaid button-up shirt, my new cowboy boots instead of my old ones, and pigtail braids.

I surveyed myself in the mirror and thought, “Yes. This is the me from high school. I’m going out in public like this.”

Then my roommate, who usually respected an unspoken agreement of silent co-existence, walked in and said, “Where did you get those pants? Are they for construction workers?”

And I lost my nerve and changed my pants.

Oh sure, I’ve worn Carhartts since then. I donned my bibs whenever I went to the barn for one of my ag classes, and I have a belt buckle and a shirt that are more inconspicuous. But it isn’t the same.

While Carhartt may be worn in other places for its designed purpose, as workwear, I argue that the brand is much more popular and dearer to the hearts of Alaskans than others. Alaska was even mentioned on Carhartt’s website in its rundown of the 125-year history of the brand: “In the 70’s, the Alaska Pipeline helped grow the brand and Carhartt showed the world it could survive and thrive in the most rugged corners of the world.”

Thrive indeed. We may be done with the pipeline, but we’re not finished with Carhartt. My friends from other states may own a beanie or two, they may even have a nice thick winter coat. But can they live up to these examples?

President Obama, when he visited the state in November, donned the appropriate garb by wearing a Carhartt jacket.Clean black Carhartts are considered “Sunday best” by many here in the last frontier. Pair it with a bow tie and you’ll be admitted to Simon and Seafort’s without a second glance.Each year I was in high school, “Carhartt Day” was a popular designated dress-up spirit day. One year, on the day of a basketball game against us, Colony High also dressed up in Carhartts, as a jab to Palmer High students and our reputation of being farmers and hicks. Little did they know, our Carhartt spirit day was the same day, so the gym was full to bursting with Carhartt-clad fans.I was in a vocal quartet as a teenager that often performed (and had its album cover photos taken) in Carhartt overalls. And of course, there is a slightly more famous Alaskan band that performs wearing the brand: The Carhartt Brothers.Another high school memory I have is of a prom after party (which I sadly couldn’t attend) where attendants, male and female alike, reportedly changed from their formals to their Carhartts and had a bonfire.My husband, in his movie-making teenage years, produced a spoof of Men in Black titled (can you guess it?)… Men in Carhartts.When my 4-H club prepared for a trip to the nation’s capital, we ordered fancy matching coats embroidered with our names and club emblem especially for the occasion. And we wore those classy blue Carhartt coats right into the capitol building.

Perhaps the strangest thing about Carhartts is that, in my high school at least, their condition was a status symbol. It was well-known to me, although never explicitly stated, that the dingier your Carhartts were, the better. The stains proved that you didn’t buy these calf-scour colored pants off the rack just to wear them — you worked in them, as intended, and then wore the hard-earned discoloration as a badge of honor. When I received a new pair of Carhartt pants for Christmas, I wore them outside diligently for a few weeks before I allowed myself to debut them at school. Of course, I washed them well — I would never be allowed to go to school in dirty, stinky pants — but I’d rather wear a paper bag over my head then debut my work pants with a sheen of newness on them.

My husband, on the other hand, remembers Carhartts as a symbol of wealth. New Carhartts were out of his budget, so he was relegated to second-hand pants, which were so worn-in they were worn-out.

Sadly, I don’t even own a pair of Carhartt pants anymore, and I miss everything about them, from the triple stitching to the rivets to the hammer loop and yes, even the color. I miss the comfort of the wide legs and I just love the way they look.

I’m not at all a fashionista and my current mom-iform consists of a t-shirt, tennis shoes and baggy jeans, but I’m not sure that I’ll ever be able to wear Carhartt pants with impunity the way I did in my carefree Alaskan youth.

But I have to admit that I’m living vicariously through my one-year-old, Atticus, whom I dress in his Carhartt bibs every chance I get (preferably paired with a plaid shirt). They’re getting tight on him and the straps are adjusted as long as they go, (and, to be fair, he’s never done a day’s work in them), but as long as they fit, he’ll wear them.

Rachel Kenley Fry was born and raised in Palmer and graduated from Utah State University in 2012 with degrees in journalism and agricultural communication. Her previous work for the Frontiersman includes two years as a “Student Views” columnist and contributions for a “What to Eat” column while she was an intern with the Alaska Division of Agriculture. She currently lives in Virginia with her husband and two children.