Nostalgia for the '80s
A few days ago, I was chatting with one of my soul sisters and shared how worried I am for my nephew and niece. The world feels so intense and uncertain right now. But she looked at me and said, “Oh hon, don’t worry for them—worry for us!”
At first, I didn’t get it. But five minutes into her explanation, I had to admit—she was absolutely right.
I realized that my concern for the younger generation comes from comparing their world to the one I grew up in. Back then, life just felt... simpler. We connected with people. We weren’t afraid of being in relationships. We played together—guys and girls—whether it was PlayStation, soccer, graffiti, or just hanging out at BBQs with half-frozen sausages and a bottle of Malibu. We’d pray our prepaid cards had enough credit to text our crush on our Nokia 3310s. And if not? We’d make France Telecom rich by locking ourselves in the bathroom for hours talking on the phone (true story!).
There was a lightness to life, an insouciance. We joked freely, even if it was a bit stupid. We could laugh at each other’s parents without someone calling it problematic. Today, that kind of humor would likely be met with side-eyes or canceled. It’s like we’ve “Cloroxed” everything—our language, our emotions, our personalities. Everything’s been scrubbed so clean it’s become sterile. Dull. And honestly? Boring.
Now I hear guys in their late 30s saying they’d rather stay home scrolling through Instagram, fantasizing about filtered girls, and ordering Uber Eats than actually living. The lack of real connection is heartbreaking.
My friend was right. Those of us born between 1980 and 1995 are grieving a little—we miss those carefree years when it was still about us, not about technology. Don’t get me wrong, progress is great. Innovation is exciting. But at what cost?
If it means we’re now afraid of one another, afraid to connect, to love, to speak freely... if we’re constantly hiding behind curated personas and victimhood because we’re scared to be ourselves and misunderstood by our own loved ones... then yes, we have a problem.
Nothing can ever replace real human connection. We’re not meant to live behind screens. We’re meant to feel, to touch, to smell, to belong. That’s what makes us alive. That’s what makes life worth it.
We can’t go back in time—but we can be more intentional with how we connect, love, and show up for each other today.
With love,
Marine Sélénée