Today is a day of great importance: it is 9/02/10. Understandably, anyone alive during the early 90s (or the five teenagers who watch the remake) are in a tizzy over this. Even the city of Beverly Hills is going all-out, with a celebration the likes of which has only been seen in the Math club on Pi Day.
True story: the year was 1994. I was at an all-girls camp on the east coast, and we had to send three letters a week home in order to get Candy Canteen. My counselor confiscated my letters and refused to let me have my weekly sugar fix because – and I quote – “90210 is not a real zip code.”
I had to have the head of the camp show her my records as proof that yes, it was a real zip code.
I guess it’s fitting that the 90s have come back with a vengeance in the past year, just in time for such an iconic date. Walking into Wet Seal has become a surreal experience; much of their stock looks the same as when I first shopped there.
The 90s are everywhere. It’s hard to escape the shoulder pads and high-waist pants that we all thought had been laid to rest with the advent of low-rise jeans and LFO’s anti-Chinese food diatribe, “Summer Girls.” But the 90s are back, and have been for a while. It’s a truth that must be accepted – the 90s are not just an era any more, they’re an industry.
This 90s resurgence – because this is all about me – makes me feel old. Like, crazy old. The best movie ever made is 15 years old – which means that the movie is the same age as Tai. There are teenagers with drivers licenses who have never seen a map of the Soviet Union. I was in the car the other day alongside a 30-something year old guy who was blasting “August and Everything After” while his two kids played with their iPhones. Kelly Taylor became a teacher at West Beverly. When did we all grow up?
In truth, 90210 was a little before my time – I was born in 1985, so the trials and tribulations of the Walsh clan went over my head. That’s why, to me, what’s most off-putting about this 90s nostalgia is what I saw at Hot Topic the other day:
It was one thing when Busted Tees sold Beets t-shirts. But when a major retailer thinks there’s enough of a market for nostalgia gear – suddenly, I feel bad for rolling my eyes when my dad would hear Cream on the radio and say, “This really holds up. It sounds like it could have been made yesterday, doesn’t it?”
Sorry, Dad. I understand now. I’ll be saying the same thing about Toad the Wet Sprocket in five years.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go watch Clueless and Empire Records to console myself.
Side note: is it just me, or does Reptar kind of look like David Letterman?