Goodbye 2024, Hello 2015
Why Gen Z can’t stop looking back.
Original photoshoot by FAST at UCLA. Photography by Umu Diallo and Airis Encarnacion. Modeling by Sean Clenista, Aaryn Coleman, and Machair Ahmat. Wardrobe styling by Grace Zang, Jasmine Johnson, and Joey Chen. Hair by Ashley Paxton. Makeup by Sanjana Surendran. Production Assistance from Haliun Enkhnyam.
The Pink Wall. Forever 21 Bags. Starbucks frappes. Instagram filters. Vine.
Don’t get it confused with Tumblr’s Indie Sleaze era, or when YouTube was full of Hypebeast diss tracks.
I’m talking about the cheugy, Instagrammable, Obama-era-optimism 2010s – a time before the takeover of highly curated (usually short-form) content and post-pandemic social woes, the 2010s was an era associated with casual Instagrams and Calvin Harris, behind a backdrop of LA sunshine.
2014 was eleven years ago. But why is social media trying so hard to replicate the essence of the era? The keywords “2010s aesthetic” were the most searched term on Pinterest last May, and the resurgence of songs like Zedd’s “Clarity” and G-Eazy’s “Tumblr Girls” are emblematic of the coveted 2010s aesthetic.
But as much as we yearn for the 2010s, today’s replication of the era feels far from genuine. As Gen Z craves for “simpler times,” it’s ironic that our 2010s feels like a performance. Both our economic and digital landscapes are far removed from the decade, making today a disingenuous replication of the spirit of the 2010s.
“And obviously guys, this isn’t to brag at all… I’m so grateful for every gift that I got this year from my friends and family… I just wanted to share with you guys because I love the holidays so much!!”
These sentences prefaced every YouTuber’s “Christmas hauls,” where influencers would parade the gifts they took home every holiday season. The videos gained a lot of traction – several of YouTuber Alisha Marie’s Christmas haul videos have amassed more than two million views.
Outside of shopping vicariously through our favorite influencers, these videos were most popular at a time where mall culture was still booming. Coming out of the Great Recession, accessible consumerism was embraced as a means to boost the economy. It became not only normal, but encouraged to splurge on Forever 21, Bath & Body Works mists, and Baby Lips in every flavor. Social media was incredible fodder for this mindset. In the 2010s, you could expect to see multi-hundred dollar shopping hauls each holiday season, and beauty gurus had makeup collections that encouraged viewers to buy, buy, buy. These haul videos are symbolic of a time when it was not just possible to purchase every trending item – it was encouraged.
Put simply, it’s no longer economically feasible to be on trend. Viral items are much more expensive than they used to be: a pair of cutoff denim shorts from Edikted will run you forty to eighty dollars, while the same item from Forever21 a decade ago cost a fraction of that price. The hottest lip treatments of the 2010s – BABYLIPS and EOS – could be purchased at any local drug store for just a few dollars. Meanwhile, rhode’s peptide lip treatment will run you $18. Summer Fridays’ Lip Butter Balm costs $24. We experience these same price hikes with Starbucks frappuccinos versus Erewhon smoothies. Today’s “little luxuries” are simply not as accessible as they once were.
Today’s economic anxieties feel far removed from the economic prosperity of the 2010s. Since the Trump administration has greenlit tariffs against nearly every country, it’s increasingly apparent Americans are about to face high costs for everyday goods, with little relief in sight. As economists speculate that we are hurtling towards a recession, Gen Z’s 2010s nostalgia is indicative of a collective craving for a time when spending on trendy products didn’t feel like a financial burden.
The return of the 2010s aesthetic extends beyond consumption habits – it’s also rooted in our digital landscape. Accounts like @musical.lyoldsound on TikTok are dedicated to reposting old videos from the platform. Some of the posts have gained more than ten million views, highlighting the staying power of 2010s culture on social media today.
Characterized by candid, frequent casual posts, social media felt far from the high-effort production it has become today. 2010s social media felt charmingly unpolished: influencer culture was still in its infancy, and content creators had smaller audiences and lower production content. Many creators photographed and edited their content directly within the app, using Instagram’s built in filters.
Today, the rise of influencer marketing and native ads make social media feel more like a marketplace than a community forum. Brands pay influencers thousands to promote their products online, creating a digital landscape where product promotion is just as commonplace as posting a photo with friends.
Influencer culture has become ubiquitous even offscreen: brand partnerships and activations have become the newest strategy in introducing new products. At Coachella, 818 Spirits and Rhode skin collaborated to offer a photobooth, inviting festival goers to share posed pictures holding the products. Beverage giant Aperol also had a pop-up bar in the desert, and partnered with singer Charli xcx to promote their cocktails onstage. Regardless if you attended the festival as an influencer or as an individual, it has become an expectation that entertainment and advertising should be paired together.
With the constant advertising on social media, much of Gen Z laments that keeping up with social media feels like a performance. Ironically, there have been more efforts to make a “candid,” curated feed. Although the art of the casual Instagram came naturally to us in the 2010s, Gen Z now works overtime to pull off the aesthetic balancing act. TikTok user @evangraysmith has made a career off his series, “Instagram Rating Return,” where users will pay Evan to review their Instagram feeds. In each episode, Evan takes a deep dive into a user’s feed, dissecting their profile photo, cover photos, and cohesiveness. Evan views himself as a coach, teaching his disciples how to create an effortless, curated “cool girl” Instagram.
The internet in the 2010s was exploratory, where finding community felt one click away. Content was organic and was made for the purpose of sharing interests. Today’s internet feels much more extractive, with endless stakeholders influencing every interaction. Every social media platform scrapes data from its users, which it sells to advertisers to create an individualized algorithm to sell us the products we didn’t know we needed. Today’s most popular social media platforms are rooted in conceding our data to developers. Platforms like Beli, Strava, or Spotify, which empower us to log our habits and hobbies, profit from selling user analytics. The engine of data and advertising cement today’s internet as far removed from the early days of social media, making the 2010s trend no different than any other fad: an opportunity to sell product.
Our nostalgia for the 2010s isn’t just about gaudy fashion or EDM – it’s a reaction to our current reality, which feels overwhelming, hyper-political, and financially burdensome. It’s not just our styles that are looking back: since Trump’s return to office in January, our political climate feels like an echo to what we had in 2016. As Gen Z grapples with a recent rise in conservatism, it makes sense that we’re drawn to an era where everything felt simple. But even as the 2010s trends re-enter our feeds, the free spirit of the decade is yet to return. The 2010s revival is rooted in burnout, and a creeping realization that socioeconomic progress has stalled, if not reversed.
