2024: The year of Gen Z nostalgia

Back to the future. Across industries - from tech, to fashion, and politics - Gen Z is obsessed with a past they didn’t experience.

Photo by Kevin Yudhistira Alloni on Unsplash

Earlier this month, I brought a pair of Fujifilm Flash disposable cameras to my friend’s holiday party, and I spent the past few weeks waiting for the photos to be developed. It’s not like I don’t have dozens of pictures I took on my phone. Of course I do. But it’s not the same. In a world where almost everything is digital, there’s something magical about waiting — the anticipation, the surprise, the charm of slightly blurry, imperfect, analog photos. The photos defy the polished, instant-gratification we’ve grown up on and transport us back to an era we never actually knew.

Gen Z is in love with a past we can hardly remember. Grappling with contradictions, we yearn for the simplicity of the past as we barrel into a chaotic future. This paradox defines our consumption, our connections, and even our politics.

I’ve spent the past couple of years traveling the country speaking with hundreds of young people and one thing is clear: my generation is deeply nostalgic for a world that feels simpler, kinder, and more authentic than the one we’re living in.

You can see it everywhere. It’s in our closets, which look like relics of the past. Low rise jeans, Y2K/90's fashion, Mary Jane's, and L.L. Bean tote bags are all more than trends, they’re practically a time machine. It’s in the way we’re reviving vinyl records, CD’s, and yes — old-school cameras. And it’s in the cultural moments we’re rediscovering. This year, Gen Z freaked out when Sex and The City landed on Netflix, sparking a new wave of obsession with Carrie Bradshaw and her iconic, 90’s New York. We’re not just consuming these relics — we’re building our identities around them.

As technology dominates every minute of our every day, we’re pushing back in the most human way possible: by seeking connection in ways that feel real. Run clubs have become the new dating apps, dinner parties where you’re required to abandon your phone in the middle of the table are the new norm. We’re trying to ground ourselves in something tangible, that doesn’t stare back at you from a screen.

This generational longing for the past is also reshaping our politics. At a Republican conference outside of D.C. in early December, young conservatives spoke wistfully about an era of American prosperity they never actually experienced. They romanticized a time when economic opportunity seemed abundant, communities felt tighter, and traditional values were widely shared. President-elect Donald Trump – a 90’s TV star who’s also ever the marketer – tapped into that nostalgia. On the campaign trail he made surprising inroads with young voters – many of whom were too young to vote in 2016 or even remember his first term - by promising to Make America Great Again for their generation.

This hunger isn’t confined to the right. Progressive Gen Zers talk about the American Dream as if it’s an artifact — something that once existed but is now out of reach. High rents, crushing student debt, and an impossible housing market have left many young people feeling like they were promised a life they’ll never have - that the fantasy of adulthood doesn’t align with the financial and environmental crises we’ve inherited.

Romanticizing the past isn’t a trend for Gen Z, it’s survival. We’ve come of age in a constant state of crisis: economic downturn, a global pandemic, the loneliness epidemic, the fall of Roe v. Wade and a climate catastrophe that will have bigger consequences for us and our children than anyone else. Other generations faced difficult times too — Boomers had Vietnam, Millennials had 9/11, the Iraq war and young adulthood during the Great Recession — but today’s difficulties feel inescapable, never-ending, and are documented in real time for all to witness. Social media and 24/7 news make everything hit faster and harder. The chaos feels constant and the challenges permanent.

Nostalgia gives us a break. It’s a way to find stability in a world that’s always shifting.

Gen Z isn’t monolithic. But one quintessential truth amongst most members of our generation is that we’re sick of things as they are. The question isn’t why is Gen Z nostalgic, it’s what will we do about it? How will we define our future when we’re so desperate to revisit the past? Will striving for simpler and kinder times help us forge something new? Or are we just chasing ghosts?

Holiday season reads (and listens)

📚 Could This 20-Year-Old Be One of the Democrats’ Bro Whisperers?, Callie Holtermann for The New York Times

📚 Do You Have Aura—or Are You Mid? A Gen-Z Slang Dictionary., Mallory Valis for The Free Press

📚 The Supreme Court Enters its teenage era, John Fritze and Devan Cole for CNN

🎧 Are Young Men Really Becoming More Sexist?, Jerusalem Demsas for The Atlantic