And speaking of Courtney Love, she and Kurt Cobainârock's most infamous coupleâappeared on the cover of
Sassy
in April 1992. It was Kurt and Courtney's (or “Kurtney,” as Christina called them in the pages of “What Now,” heralding the era of Bennifer, Brangelina, and TomKat) first magazine appearance together and, given that they'd had offers from every major music magazine, a real coup for
Sassy
. Love's publicist at Hole's then label, Caroline, was a friend of Christina's, and she made the article happen. “We got in there just before everyone else wanted to,” Christina remembers.
Strangely, Nirvana's circle was less than six degrees of separation from
Sassy
's: in an early issue,
Sassy
had included a short blurb on a new deodorant called Teen Spirit. They gave the product a rave review (the ad for it was, after all, on the facing page) but said “gag on the name.” Kathleen Hanna of Bikini Kill was rumored to have read the piece and spray-painted SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT on Kurt's wall. “Smells Like Teen Spirit” became the name of Nirvana's first single from
Nevermind
, the Seattle-based indie trio's major label debut. It climbed to the top of the Billboard charts, beginning the popular phase of the grunge era.
A Nirvana fan since their days on Sub Pop, Christine Muhlke was Christina's intern at the time. When she heard that Christina was going to interview Kurt and Courtney, Christine begged her to be allowed to come along. The band was in New York to tape an episode of
Saturday Night Live.
Kurt and Courtney were so late to the interview that there was some question of whether the couple would even show up; when they finally arrived, they both seemed to be on something. Either way, it was a memorable interview. “Courtney was so fantastic, talking about how Kurt liked her and didn't like skinny models,” says Christine. She adds that “Kurt barely got to speak, but when he spoke, he was so beautiful and articulate
and lovely, and we just kind of sat there and we were so overwhelmed by these really powerful, truly punk people.” She said half the fun was watching Christina interact with the hyperactive Courtney. “I think she was intimidated,” says Christine. Christina may have been a New York scenester, but Courtney Love was like Nancy Spungen come back to life.
The interview was a high point in the annals of both indie rock and
Sassy
. Kurt would eventually succumb to a drug-addled depression; a documentary would accuse Courtney of murdering her more-famous husband; their daughter, Frances Bean, would be forcibly removed from Courtney's home; and, years later, Courtney would be dragged out of her Manhattan apartment wailing about a botched abortion. But that spring, the couple was on the verge of making major pop-culture history, and they were very much in love. In a now famous moment in the much-reprinted interview, Courtney apologizes to Christina for a blemish on her face: “Sorry about this zit,” she says. “Zits are beauty marks,” an enraptured Kurt replies. “It's poignant for me to think about even now,” one twentysomething told
Sassy
fan Rebecca L. Fox in “
Sassy
All Over Again.” Fox opines, “As another reader whom
Sassy
assured could be loved, zits and all, I know exactly how she feels.”
Years before Kurt and Courtney became household names and helped usher alternative culture into the mainstream,
Sassy
supported independent music. Christina launched “Cute Band Alert”âthe title was a parody of teen-magazine speakâin “What Now” (once described in
Sassy
as “the monthly column of what Christina likes, who Christina thinks is cute, what outrages Christina, people Christina hates, and people Christina
really
hates”) in February 1990. “It was supposed to be a one-off,” Christina remembers. She got a black-and-white glossy of the band Bullet LaVolta in the mail and thought they were cute. There were so many write-in requests for a follow-up that in January 1991 the section became a regular column in “What Now.” Publicists and band members alike started lobbying Christina to be featured. “All these cool bands wanted to be in it,” she says. In fact, the alumni list of “Cute Band Alert” reads like an encyclopedia entry for nineties alternative music: Bikini Kill, Blonde Redhead, Chavez, Heavenly, Sloan, Ween, and That dog. It is also the place that massively successful and notorious indie bands like Guided by Voices, Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, and Superchunk got their first piece of teen press.
Sassy
was one of the first nonmusic magazines to cover underground music. “In the eighties, there was an us-versus-them situation: us being the underground and them being mainstream American culture. They just never met. They were in two parallel universes,” says K Records founder and “What Now” regular Calvin Johnson. “The mainstream press mostly saw indie labels as vanity publishing, as if the band was not on a âreal' record label because no one else would put it out. The fact that Christina accepted us at face value was startling.”
Sassy
's love affair with all things indie (not
just indie rock, but indie actors, directors, and comic-book artists were featured in its pages) was, according to Christina, entirely organic. “What I was writing about evolved with what I was interested in. Through people I met in my job, I got exposed to all these different things,” she says. “It was like a privilege to be there because people thought
Sassy
was cool, so they'd gravitate toward us.” In turn, the punk-rock and indie world got a frisson of excitement seeing themselves in a magazine you could find on grocery-store shelves. “The funniest thing about
Sassy
's coverage was that it was so inside,” says music critic Ann Powers. “Here was something that should have been the organ of mainstream pop culture, taking the indie-rock stance.”
There was, of course, the inevitable backlash from older veterans of the music scene, who frowned upon appearing alongside reviews of bland mainstream pop acts like Samantha Fox (even though Mike thought her album merited less than a star). Teen girls' taste was so derided that no “serious” musical act courted their devotion. “A lot of punks picked on
Sassy
for bringing bands like Blonde Redhead to the forefront,” says fan Annie Tomlin (who was such a
Sassy
devotee growing up that she and her friends would stage mock photo shoots based on layouts they saw in the magazine). But Tomlin feels that Christina's coverage of indie music was an important lifeline for teens like her. “For girls who grew up in the proverbial middle of nowhere, it was our big connection to something different. It planted a cultural seed that wound up making me interested in different cultures that I couldn't have discovered without the magazine.” Constance Hwong remembers that, pre-
Sassy
, “I thought
indie
meant âfrom India.' I started listening to Sonic Youth, 7 Year Bitch, Liz Phair, and probably a bunch of other things, all because of
Sassy
and their music reviews.”
Covering bands geared to the college crowd gave the magazine indie credâsomething previously unheard of in the teen market. Because let's face it:
Seventeen
and company had never been particularly hipâor even discerningâin their celebrity coverage. Of course, in
Seventeen
there was the occasional nod to the token alternative act that had found mainstream success, like the Cure or R.E.M. Sarah Crichton remembers pushing for a Beastie Boys story in the late 1980s. This was when the group had naked girls dancing in bamboo cages onstageâbefore they found Tibetan Buddhism and started dating feminists. The shoot was all set when Crichton's phone rang: “Midge was calling from a plane, and she told me that the Beastie Boys were performing with a giant penis onstage, and she said, âCancel that shoot!'” She pauses, “Well, the Beastie Boys did not appear in
Seventeen
.”
By 1990,
Seventeen
was noticing
Sassy
's emphasis on alternative culture and taking baby steps toward upping its cool quotient. On the one hand, it would feature an obscure indie band no one had ever really heard of, like the Lilac Time, but then it would also run a story on Swedish metal-lite band Roxette. By 1992, it would feature a big photo and review of gray-haired Leonard
Cohen (an odd pick for a teen magazine) alongside a write-up of British shoegaze band Slowdive and compare their ethereal music toâ
shudder
âWilson Phillips. That same year, they pushed the feminist girl-rock envelope with the article “Babes in Boyland,” where they asked “the coolest women in rock” (including Kim Gordon) what it's really like “when you're the only gal in the band.” By the early nineties,
Seventeen
had gotten the memo that times were changing, and they tried to reflect that in their celebrity and music coverage, but they lacked the inner compass of coolânamely, Christina Kellyâthat
Sassy
had.
It took a certain amount of conviction on
Sassy
's part to put underground celebrities in its pages, but once they did, even the magazine's business side embraced alternative culture.
Sassy
frequently featured a half-page Social Distortion ad next to one hawking tampons. Companies who had previously advertised only in
Spin
and
Rolling Stone
soon began to purchase ad space in
Sassy
.
Sassy
's recurring coverage of Sonic Youth (sharing their fish-taco recipe; Kim Gordon getting her hair done with the staff), the Beastie Boys (baking a birthday cake for the magazine), Matador Records (the label of various “Cute Band Alerts”), and various other key figures in the nineties indie explosion made it seem like there was an alternative mafia represented in
Sassy
.
The column “Dear Boy,” where readers sent in their relationship questions for a famous guy to answer, was launched in June 1993. The column allowed
Sassy
to give yet more face time to indie-rock hotshots like Beck, Mike D. (of the Beastie Boys), Billy Corgan (of Smashing Pumpkins), and Iggy Pop. The questions were typical teen territoryâ“There's this guy that I really like. He tells everyone that he doesn't even like me as a friend, but when we're alone together we do things that are reserved for people who think of each other as more than friends. What do I do?”âbut the rock stars got to show a softer side. Thurston Moore from Sonic Youth replied to the aforementioned question, saying, “The guy's a jerk. I know that won't discourage you from liking him, but he's got a major personality flaw: disrespecting you. Next time you're alone with him and he tries to get âfriendly,' tell him your friend Thurston Moore wants to kick his ass. And then tell him why.”
The
Sassy
editors were able to pinpoint some ineffable quality in two other celebrities who would go on to become avatars of Generation X. The first is Chloë Sevigny. “Chloë was walking by on the street and Andrea just kind of grabbed her,” says Mary. Chloë became an intern at the magazine and modeled in a number of their shoots. She was there at the same time as Christine Muhlke, who says, “She wore really big hats that she made, and she had really big pants, and I just had a horrible, horrible girl crush on her.” This was, of course, before Jay McInerney catapulted her to It Girl status when he wrote about her in
The New Yorker
. Since Andrea launched her
career, Chloë has become a major pop-culture figure, starring in Larry Clark's
Kids
, garnering an Oscar nomination for her role in
Boys Don't Cry
, regularly appearing in fashion magazines like
Vogue
and
Harper's Bazaar
and in ad campaigns for favorite hipster brands like Miu Miu and M.A.C., and strutting naked down a catwalk in Sonic Youth's “Sugar Kane” video. (She met the band through
Sassy
after former intern Daisy Von Furth recommended her for the part.)
It was Christina who made initial contact with Spike Jonze, another of the magazine's favorite subjects, before he secured his import in late-twentieth-century culture by directing Beastie Boys videos and Oscar-nominated films
Adaptation
and
Being John Malkovich
. Charles Aaron, a former “staff boy” (a notoriously ambiguous gofer-type position), remembers spotting Spike in the
Sassy
office. “He's sitting on the floor, next to Christina's desk, going through zines and making weird jokes.”
Spike's relationship with
Sassy
happened entirely by accident. He was living in Los Angeles and working with friends Andy Jenkins and Mark “Lew” Lewman on
Homeboy
, a magazine that began in 1986 and that combined skateboarding and bike riders alongside comic-book creators, musicians, artists, and, as they put it, “weirdos and bums.”
One
Homeboy
reader felt dissed by the magazine and, as retaliation, sent out “bill me later” blow-in subscription cards with
Homeboy
's address to a random array of magazines, including
Pig Farmer
,
Guns & Ammo
,
Coal Miner Monthly
, and
Sassy
. Out of curiosity, the editors flipped through the magazines; somehow,
Sassy
stuck. (Not least because despite their never having paid for the subscription,
Sassy
kept arriving each month.) “Nobody wanted to admit to reading it, but we all poked through it,” says Lew. Spike would occasionally read aloud from
Sassy
while they were driving to shoots. They had a certain fascination with the female
Sassy
reader. “We were eighteen or nineteen, and it was a window into how girls thought and felt,” Spike says.
After reading
Sassy
for a while, Lew decided that he was going to make contact with the magazine. He randomly picked Christina Kelly's name off the masthead of
Sassy
and mailed her an eclectic collection of his desk detritus. Charmed, she wrote him back, and the two started a mail correspondence. Finally, a series of hangouts between the
Homeboy
boys and the
Sassy
girls was arranged.
Lew first met Jane and Christina, who were in Palm Springs for a Miss Teen USA competition (for what would become Christina's article “Beauty Pageants Are a Lot Like the Army” in February 1990). A few months later, Lew, Andy, and Spike went to a bike event in New York and stopped by the
Sassy
offices. “It felt a little like meeting our East Coast counterparts,” Spike remembers. Even though the
Sassy
staff was for the most part only a few years older than the
Homeboy
boys, they seemed “like sophisticated New Yorkers,” he says. The guys were particularly impressed that they could spot rapper Special Ed and prank call Christina's friends from the office.
The three became fixtures in the office and minor celebrities in the magazine, with Lew penning several articles for
Sassy
. (In fact, Lew and Christina dated briefly.) Spike frequently appeared in “What Now,” sometimes to his chagrin. Christina and Lew decided it would be funny to have a “Win a Date with Spike Jonze” contest one month. “They didn't tell me about it until I saw it in the magazine,” says Spike. “I was so embarrassed and humiliated and mad.”
Meanwhile,
Homeboy
was on its last legs. It was one of the few publications out there that targeted adolescent to postadolescent guys. But with a circulation of just fifty thousand, it was basically a glorified zine.
On the heels of
Homeboy
's decline, Lew, Spike, and Andy had an idea for another kind of magazine for guys. The three created a mock table of contents and article layout, and Jane set up a meeting with Dale Lang, who listened to their pitch. But Lang thought he had too much on his own publishing agenda to do it. He suggested that they put out a first issue by themselves and see how it went. Dejected and lacking the funds to self-publish, they were about to consider other employment. Then they got a call from Lang, about two weeks later, asking if they still wanted to do a magazine. Lang had recently been asked by a journalist at
The Wall Street Journal
why there weren't any male publications in the same vein as
Sassy
. (
Details
had just gone from a local New York publication to a national magazine, but it skewed affluent and effete. The only other general-interest magazine for boys was
Boys' Life
, and you had to be a Boy Scout to receive it.) Lang claimed to already have a title in the works. He set the guys up in the Lang Communications West Coast ad-sales office, in a fancy suite on the twenty-fourth floor of a building on Wilshire Boulevard.
The first of issue of
Dirt
came out in September 1991 and was polybagged with
Sassy
. The cover featured a burning TV set (it was real, not Photoshopped) and the words “Youth Culture?” with smaller photos of such early nineties icons as MTV vixen Kari Wuhrer, rapper Ice T, and a snowboarder. Lew was the editor, Spike was the photographer, and Andy was the art director. “The magazine world has fallen short of producing anything for, ahem, young men, with a general interest in life itself,” Lew writes in his first editor's letter. “And a whole lot of subjects fall into the category of daily living, so that's basically what you can expect to find within
Dirt
. Sports, music, art, chicks, cars, celebrities, style, girls, motorcycles, females, global issues, current events, women, junk food, video games, and stone cold babes.” It was a mere fifty-two pages in length but was chock full of everything they promised: a column called “Junk Drawer” that served as
Dirt
's answer to “What Now,” a story on the life of a gangster, Q&As with Ian MacKaye of Fugazi and the supercross racer Jeff Stanton, and the very
Sassy
-esque “Idiot's Guide to First Dates.” There was a guys-only survey enclosed to test readers' reactions. They got seventeen thousand responses in ten days.
In a magazine world where demographicsâ
not psychographicsâstill ruled, the fact that the magazine was so varied in terms of content made it hard to pinpoint. At
Homeboy
, the reader was clearly defined as someone who skated or rode BMX. “We couldn't say that about the
Dirt
reader,” says Andy. “We liked to think our reader was a like-minded fellow who dug the content we filled the magazine with.” Being in the same publishing house as
Sassy
was an important connection, but all the other magazines at Lang were geared toward women, so
Dirt
's articles on crazy bike messengers and rebel soapbox derbies were maybe, as Andy posits, packed with “a little too much testosterone” for the average
Sassy
reader.
But for all the boy energy in
Dirt
, they certainly weren't chauvinists. “We didn't want to do cheesecake photos of girls,” Lew explains, “but we never fully grasped how to deal with sexuality in there.” They had a chorus of girl voices in the form of the
Sassy
staff, who often wrote for
Dirt
(just as Lew wrote for
Sassy
). They offered relationship advice, as in the feminist-tinged article “Maybe This Is Why You Can't Get a Girlfriend” or their column “Dear Girl,” in which Drew Barrymore, Kim Gordon, and Laura Ballance from Superchunk would dish out girl advice to readers.
For
Dirt
's small size and irregular publication (it came out more or less seasonally), it managed to get a lot of fansâboth
Sassy
readers and celebrities. Kim Gordon jokingly told the editors that Sonic Youth's album
Dirty
was named in honor of the magazine. Fugazi, a band notoriously elusive to the mainstream press, granted
Dirt
an interview. Director John Waters sent them a postcard saying how much he loved
Dirt
. They got writers like Hugh Gallagher and Douglas Coupland to contribute, and Sofia Coppola and the Beastie Boys were frequently spotted in their pages. Lew once sent a bunch of issues of
Dirt
to Cameron Crowe, who directed
Say Anything
,
Singles
, and
Almost Famous
, and who had been his favorite writer since high school, with a note saying, “I wish you were my friend.” Crowe sent him back a note that read, “Mark, I am your friend.” Lew remembers, “That got me so high.”
Despite
Dirt
's buzz, however, there was still pressure from New York to add fashion and grooming to the magazine to aid in getting ad dollars from big-money cosmetics companies. “In my eyes it just seemed to undermine the content,” Andy says. The three guys normally got their clothes from the Goodwill, or for free from skate companies. Having to use models dressed in mall clothes, they feared, would “pull away from any credibility we might have had. I think we made it work for a while, but it got harder as time went onâharder to be clever about it when we were being sent the goofiest shit to put people in. And the irony is that it didn't pull in any advertising.”
From an ad-sales standpoint,
Dirt
was a hard sell because there was no precedent, and no discernible competition for the magazine. Dale Lang came up with alternative ways to market it, making a deal with Marvel Comics to polybag various comic books with
Dirt
and sell them in comic shops. But since the average comic-book reader fell off at about fifteen years old, and the average
Dirt
reader began at about fifteen, it wasn't the best fit. “I don't feel anyone at Lang understood what we wanted to do and how we wanted to do it,” Andy says (except for the
Sassy
staff, of course). Ultimately, the
Dirt
staff felt misunderstood, like they were three kids from L.A. in flannel shirts and jeans with funny ideas. Andy says, “The way we handled things was seen as unorthodox in the world of Lang, and so we never jived or meshed.”
After about a year of producing
Dirt
, the three went on a creative retreat, which consisted of them driving around L.A., going to the Holiday Inn in Torrance, and staying up late trying to come up with a big-picture plan. They decided that they had been trying too hard to please the publisher and to make the magazine broadly general interest when their own interests were more niche. “We decided we should stop doing it,” Spike remembers, “or do it in a way that's inspired.” So for issue six they took a more conceptual approach and did a tour issue, driving across the country for an entire month, hanging out with friends like the Breeders in Ohio, or meeting up with folksinger R. A. Williams.
The deal with Marvel Comics was clearly not working, but ESPN was launching its younger-skewing brother network, ESPN2, and became an investor in the magazine. By that time Andy wanted out and Spike had already begun directing music videos (for the likes of the Beastie Boys, whom he had met through
Dirt
), so Lew was carrying the magazine on his own. But everything came together for their last issue, called “People, Places, and Things That Made Us Who We Are.” It included an essay by Hugh Gallagher about the deaths of River Phoenix and Kurt Cobain. The guys thought it was the best issue yet, the realization of their initial intention. But, according to Spike, “Dale Lang was freaked out. He thought it was too dark and too weird.” It was never printed, and
Dirt
folded in 1995.
Lew, Spike, and Andy's work with
Dirt
and
Sassy
gave them a public forum where they could experiment with their burgeoning creative impulses. Andy went on to become the creative director for the hugely popular skate labels Girl and Chocolate, and Lew dabbled in advertising, wrote, and spent a few years in Costa Rica.
As for Spike, Chloë, and countless other up-and-coming actors, future cultural creators, and underground legends: “I still remember all these people when they were teenagers, and have now become sort of larger-than-life and have managed to turn themselves into these kinds of iconic characters,” says Charles Aaron. “
Sassy
was the place where they entered the world. It seems like a welcoming way to come into the spotlight.”