Trainwreck & Tight Leggings: American Apparel, Nostalgia, and Netflix Mess

Let’s take a little trip back in time—it's 2009. You’re checking your BBM on your Blackberry Pearl to see where the party’s at tonight. We’re in Atlanta, Georgia, and you and your homegirls are getting ready: skin-tight leggings, cotton bodycon dresses, and mesh tops from none other than American Apparel.

We had just transitioned from the oversized polos and urban wear of high school, and suddenly this new, minimalist brand hit the scene. If you were in Atlanta and even a little hipster, you were shopping at American Apparel. I remember having a shiny gold pair of disco pants, and my best friend had them in purple and black. Couldn’t tell us we weren’t lit at the Broke & Bougie party.

I owned the Gold pair, Geezz I miss those pants

So imagine my surprise, over a decade later, when I saw a Netflix docuseries called Trainwreck: The Cult of American Apparel pop up on my feed. Like—what?! We were out here spending our little part-time checks on mesh tanks and metallic leggings, never knowing about the mess behind the scenes. Back then, we weren’t obsessed with CEOs or the dark side of fast fashion. (Lowkey, I miss when CEOs had anonymity.)

Naturally, I screenshotted the doc and sent it to my group chat. Immediate replies. Because this? This was a core memory for us. Randomly enough, I also vividly remember being in American Apparel one Sunday with my best friend Paris... and Mase. Yes—Harlem World, Bad Boy, Cam’ron beef Mase—standing in line behind us holding a bright green G-string. Strange? Yes. Especially in light of current events. But let’s move on.

So, What’s the Doc About?

Babyyyy... I sat up this morning, watched the first hour, and whew—just wow. I don’t even know where to begin. First of all, let’s talk about the softcore porn aesthetic of the ads. Somehow, I never noticed them back in the day, probably because they never popped up at my location in Little Five Points, Atlanta. But now? I’m shook.

Here's what I’ve learned so far:

• American Apparel was founded in 1989 by Dov Charney—one year before I was born.

• It popped off in the early to mid-2000s with colorful basics and anti-logo fashion.

• Their hook? “Made in the USA” manufacturing and super suggestive advertising.
  

At first glance, it felt like a more ethical fashion choice—no outsourcing, no sweatshops. Just cool kids in cotton basics. But we now know that "Made in America" doesn't always mean ethical, especially when that labor includes undocumented workers.

Where’s the Trainwreck?

Glad you asked. As always with a Netflix doc, the plot thickens. The first red flag? When an interviewee said that upon being hired, new employees received a BlackBerry and a copy of The 48 Laws of Power.

Now... if you’re from where I’m from, 48 Laws is that book men in jail read so they can manipulate people once they get out. Let’s just say... the energy was already off.

From there, we start to see Dov's character unravel. He’s surrounded by a harem of skinny, beautiful 20-somethings. There are multiple clips of him yelling at them in the office, sometimes slapping himself in the face as a proxy for slapping them—because he was that angry. Ummm… okay.

One of the former employees said he’d created this “inner circle” of women who lived and worked at his home (yes, lived there) and gave commands in the office based on their proximity to Dov. Basically, if you were in the house, you had status. If you weren’t, you didn’t.

Let me pause here and just say: men with creative facial hair? Never trusted them.

Things Get Real Messy

Eventually, the company went public. And guess who Dov appointed to the board of directors? Robert Greene—the actual author of The 48 Laws of Power. So yeah, the manipulation was very on-brand.

And then, Netflix hits us with that scene: a massive ICE raid at the LA-based factory. Dov had been using a mostly undocumented Hispanic workforce to avoid outsourcing. It worked... until it didn’t. Watching dozens of workers get laid off all at once—after building that brand up—is a whole other kind of gut-punch.

The first episode ends with Dov being ousted by his own board and replaced as CEO. American Apparel gets acquired. And then there's the final clip: Dov and Kanye at the head of the Yeezy brand. Sigh. As someone who’s been spiritually broken up with Ye for a while now (between the misogyny and anti-Semitism), it was very on-brand, unfortunately.

But wait, it gets darker: The episode closes with faceless young women, possibly underage, crying on screen. What we’re watching is the foreshadowing of a cult-like sex scandal brewing behind the scenes. It’s giving NXIVM. It's giving manipulation. It’s giving abuse.

Final Thoughts

Listen, I lived in American Apparel pieces in the 2010s. So this is hitting me differently. What started as a wave of indie fashion and disco pants has turned into a Netflix exposé on toxic leadership, manipulation, and exploitation. And somehow, it's all starting to make sense.

I'll be watching the next episode when it drops next week. Y’all stay tuned—I’ll be back with more commentary.

P.S. Did you used to shop at American Apparel too? Tell me your AA era stories in the comments or shoot me a DM. Let’s take this nostalgic mess to the group chat.

— Mo'