On this day in 1993, I brought home a record that would change my life forever: Suede.

That was a bit fucking dramatic. But the arrival of Suede's debut album was a turning point for me, and it was a watershed moment for rock 'n' roll in general.

Suede's eponymous debut was unlike anything the world had heard before, and it heralded the approach of a new British sound that would kick Right Said Fred square in balls and off the charts. Much like The Velvet Underground's first album or the Sex Pistols' inaugural gig at St Martin's College, Suede's Suede inspired the formation of countless legendary bands and laid the foundation for what would become Britpop. 'When Oasis started out,' said Noel Gallagher in a 2012 interview with the NME, 'we were just trying to write a song half as fookin' good as "Metal Mickey".’

Without Suede, there'd be no Oasis, no Blur, no Pulp (actually, Pulp formed well before Suede, but I've said it now, and my delete key is broken), and certainly no Supergrass, Gene, or Elastica. And while Suede's impact on the sound of the '90s cannot be understated, nor can the band's influence on fashion and popular culture as a whole. Suddenly (and for the first time since Ziggy Stardust stalked the stage in 1972), it was cool to be androgynous, if not outright effeminate; which must've been an enormous relief to those boys who were already a touch fey, but for kids like me—kids who were rail thin, sensitive, and absolutely useless at team sports—it was rad. Girls suddenly liked boys who threw less than red-blooded shapes, and I was down for that.

My left ear had been pierced the year before and bore a small stud. This was replaced by a substantial silver hoop. My floppy pageboy haircut was grown out to near shoulder length and cleansed daily with Pert 2-in-1 to give it that sheen and bounce peculiar to the tresses of young men with hoop earrings in the early 90s. I bought a paisley shirt and wore it tucked in and unbuttoned to the navel, and I sported a Harley Davidson belt buckle that signaled that while I might look like someone who had memorized all the dialogue from the film Xanadu, I was definitely a bad boy who would stub out a cigarette on his neck and then finger-blast you to the actual mythical city of Xanadu, so watch out.

Suede is still making music today, but not in a sad way like those bands who don Spanx and continue to roll on the whiff of a petrol-soaked rag. No, these days, Suede is a refined and dignified group. The music is still brilliant, but they look like majority shareholders in a Dutch architecture firm.

Happy 30th Birthday, Suede by Suede.