I went to high school in the late nineteen-seventies myself, and “American Teen” made me nostalgic for how hanging out felt then, powered by the implicit guarantee that between classes or after school you would find your friends posted in their usual spots, and they would have time for you, so much time. It reminded me, pleasantly, too, of a kind of low-key, free-to-be-you-and-me androgyny that I associate with that era. In Szabo’s pictures, the guys and girls alike wear jeans a lot; many of the boys have shoulder-length hair; the clothes are often loose and layered (big sweaters, denim jackets, overalls, plaid shirts over tank tops), and nobody looks hellbent on perfection. That scruffier, cozier version of androgyny coexisted in the culture with the more flamboyant gender-bending of glam rock. The seventies were fun that way. Flipping through the book, I thought of the Replacements song “Androgynous,” from 1984, with the hopeful lyrics “Now, something meets boy, and something meets girl / They both look the same, they’re overjoyed in this world / Same hair revolution, unisex evolution / Tomorrow, who’s gonna fuss?”

As it happens, the fussing—about gender identity, about teen-agers and their anxieties—has only got louder in recent decades. Szabo’s photos, by contrast, are remarkably free of fretting or judgment. They are a reminder of how cool teen-agers can be, in their own tribes, on their own time. ♦