Afterglow

There’s a childhood picture of me taken in 1991 that I love. I know it was taken in 1991 because every item of clothing I’m wearing, from my sunglasses to my frilled socks, has some kind of neon or primary colour hit. Even the tiny football I’m cradling in my arms is bright orange. I am glowing in every sense of the word.

The 90s have a reputation for being an exceptionally vivid decade. This is the era that gave birth to Spacemaker pencil boxes, the original iMac, and whatever the hell Pauly Shore wore to the 1990 MTV VMAs. Otherwise sensible adults painted their whole house Dusty Rose and it was the height of suburban chic. Even the more muted realms of the colour wheel were still saturated, like classic 90s MAC lipstick in every shade of brick red, burgundy, and chestnut. Colour was everywhere.

Let’s not neglect the prints, either. Whisper the name “Laura Ashley” to a woman now in her 30s and watch her break into a cold sweat at the memory of being stuffed in a dress so lavishly floral-printed it could break a camera on school picture day. This was the original heyday of the Solo Jazz swoosh and the Union Jack as minidress. If a decade could have a texture, the 90s was crushed velvet. If these years had an aftertaste, it was Memphis Design.

90s aesthetics are returning to rule like a lopsided moon orbiting too close for comfort. The nostalgia is pulling in everything. Charli XCX neon green brat album cover? 90s. The sudden availability of brown lipstick? 90s. Marketers gamely attempting to return JNCO to relevance? 90s revival all the way down to the rotting hems, my friend. Now put those pink paint chips down before you repeat the missteps of the past.