Despite Nevermind’s relatively polished production and major-label backing, record company Geffen expected it to sell a moderate 250,000 units, matching the performance of Sonic Youth’s 1990 effort, Goo. Within two months, it had been certified Gold, then Platinum. By the following January, it had knocked Mr Michael Jackson off the number one spot. To date, it has sold more than 30 million copies, making it one of the best-selling albums of all time. It also turned the band’s adopted hometown of Seattle into an unlikely global trend hotspot and made Cobain the unwitting, and somewhat resistant, figurehead of a scene that had been bubbling under for a few years, but was suddenly everywhere: grunge.

By all accounts, the way Nirvana dressed was born of necessity. Coming from the cold, wet climate of this provincial northwestern corner of the US, and with little in the way of money, the band raided thrift and army surplus stores, arriving at their trademark look of mismatched layers by accident. The fact that they owned so few clothes meant the same items kept appearing in photoshoots, which only made each piece more recognisable. Legend has it Cobain, conscious of his weight, would wear baggy sweaters and two pairs of jeans to bulk out his frame, and he wasn’t opposed to wearing women’s clothing, which set the template for the decade.

However, Cobain was openly dismissive of the trends he helped usher in. “Kids don’t care about rock and roll as much as they used to, as the other generations have,” he once complained. “It’s already turned into nothing but a fashion statement.” In an age when authenticity meant everything, especially to an underground rock band, the mere suggestion of selling out was caustic. (Then again, Nirvana embraced and even subverted this edict with their “Corporate Rock Whores” T-shirts.)

When Mr Marc Jacobs brought this grunge aesthetic to designer fashion, the reaction was hostile. New York magazine went as far as declaring the grunge movement dead. Yet Cobain’s oversized style went some way to shaping the pre-millennial silhouette. In fact, his impact can still be felt, in everything from Gucci’s pyjama shirts to Balenciaga’s band tees to AMIRI’s distressed jeans. But one item of clothing has enjoyed the spotlight more than any other: the cardigan.

The rise of the cardigan was perhaps no less remarkable than that of Cobain himself. By the early 1990s, it had become a sartorial shorthand for fusty, mid-century suburban American dads. Proponents included Mr Perry Como and Mr Fred “Mister” Rodgers, notably not the rock idols of the day. By contrast, Mr Axl Rose, lead singer with Nirvana’s labelmates Guns N’ Roses, was performing in little more than tiny stars and stripes shorts and a bandana. Although, truth be told, Cobain and Rose didn’t see eye to eye on much.

As well as championing floral gowns and animal-print jackets (fashion forward on both fronts), Cobain was regularly photographed in dishevelled knitwear. The provocative red bob he sports in the “Come As You Are” video is offset by a fuzzy grandad cardie, its pockets seemingly still stuffed with Werther’s Originals. But the specific item that has caused the most fuss is the one he wore during the recording of MTV Unplugged In New York in 1993.

(As serendipity would have it, Mr Douglas Coupland, author of Generation X and as such another inadvertent documenter of this moment, was there in the audience. “We were in row three, right in front of where Kurt was playing,” he has said since. “It was a fantastic show, obviously.”)

A fashion historian told Rolling Stone the cardigan was probably as old as Cobain himself. “It’s a very classic style,” she said following the 2019 auction. “Kind of that off-green, that olive green colour that was popular for home decor in the 1960s.”

What could have been a nostalgic throwback became so much more when worn by Cobain. And today, despite its hokey, old-fashioned appeal and homely, comfortable feel, the cardigan is again the most rock ’n’ roll piece in your wardrobe, if the AW21 collections are anything to go by.

Cobain was ahead of his times in many ways. Not just in forging trends, but in supporting progressive causes. “If you’re a sexist, racist, homophobe or basically an asshole, don’t buy this CD,” he wrote in the inlay notes for the band’s third and final album, In Utero. “I don’t care if you like me, I hate you.”

Perhaps today the world would be better equipped to deal with the Nirvana frontman and provide the tools for his battles with his mental health. Then again, the gains that have been made past three decades are, at least in part, down to Cobain in the first place.