An Open Letter to Generation Z
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| Image from Unsplash |
During the last year or so, I have been aware of your eager effort to bring back the 1990s and their fashion. And as a spokesperson for Generation X, Y, and quite frankly anyone that has survived that era, I have to beg of you: please do not. We've lived through it once; we cannot do it again.
First, the fanny packs re-emerged, and I said nothing because, honestly, I've never worn one, and I don't plan to. No matter how often you refer to it as a "belt bag" or sling it across your chest, it is still a fanny pack, and that is where it must remain, in whatever bleak crevice of history from which it crawled.
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Then the bicycle shorts. Well, I kept quiet again; spandex is best reserved for workouts. But let's agree upon one thing in this world: flesh-coloured bike shorts should never be part of any daywear.
Slip dresses came next, but I said nothing because, well, I am way over the braless point of life. Plus, if the straps are thinner than my thumb, it's not for me.
But when the bucket hats and '90s hairstyles started making their resurgence, I just couldn't bite my tongue any longer. Quite obviously, you'd all blindly embraced the fashion of *Friends* (seasons 1–6).
Why, oh why, couldn't you have left well enough alone? Some trends are better left in the past.
With love,
A '90s Survivor
You kids have no idea what it was like. But I do. I was a teenager when heroin chic hit the magazine stands. Yep, we actually read physical magazines back then. It was bleak.
I don't know what you've heard about the '90s, but it wasn't all White House scandals and Spice Girls. OK, sure, we had economic growth and iconic shows like *Buffy the Vampire Slayer*. But times were different. The idea of owning property under 55 is a joke now, and we all know now that Joss Whedon was awful to Charisma Carpenter. But chasing after a "simpler" time by committing fashion crimes isn't going to solve anything.
So, before you do anything too rash, stop and think: do you *really* want to overpluck your eyebrows into paper-thin lines, to be left with a dozen hairs that won't quit growing back in awkwardly? Do you want it on your conscience that you were the generation who brought back cargo pants?
And it wasn't just fashion, let me tell you. Even our music wasn't safe. I still wake up in cold sweats, haunted by the sounds of ska-punk and the swing revival.
No more shall I idly sit back and watch in silence as chunky platforms take over our streets, turning them into a terror no human being would ever want to tread upon. I won't hold my tongue anymore when mom jeans, crop tops, and see-through dresses join in their perversities to topple our sane minds as one. I must speak out! The truth is, the world cannot withstand another clash with the horror of underwear-as-outerwear.
I say this with love and the hard-earned wisdom of one who survived the decade of high-waisted pants, crimped hair, and mini-backpacks. For the love of Winona Ryder, please-just stop. Stop before it's too late. Let '90s fashion rest in peace, and bury it deep in an unmarked grave.
Except for Doc Martens. Those can stay.
Sincerely,
Mary Flannery,
Older Millennial