In Dante’s Inferno, fortune tellers are condemned to walk forward with their faces turned backward, unable to see what is coming. Trend analyst and author Emily Segal borrows that image to describe Generation Z, suggesting many young people feel pulled toward yesterday instead of tomorrow. It is not that change has disappeared, but the cultural mood often feels like it is built from recycled pieces. When the future looks foggy, the past can seem like a safer place to stare.
You can see it in what dominates entertainment. Remakes, revivals, and reboots keep circling the late 1990s and early 2000s, so even “new” releases arrive with a sense of familiarity. Segal has also pointed to the renewed love for physical objects that once seemed obsolete, like vinyl records, Walkmans, VHS tapes, and Polaroids. Add the return of vintage fashion on red carpets, and it becomes clear that nostalgia is not a niche hobby, it is a major aesthetic.
Cultural critic Mark Fisher had a name for this feeling years ago when he wrote about the slow cancellation of the future. The idea is simple and unsettling, culture keeps reanimating old forms rather than confidently inventing new ones. In that atmosphere, the past starts to look more vivid than what lies ahead. It can also make progress feel like it is happening somewhere else, out of reach.
Psychologist Clay Routledge, author of Past Forward, says Gen Z nostalgia often reaches beyond personal memory. In a study of 2,000 Americans, he found that 60% of Gen Z wanted a return to life before constant connection, even when that period came before they were born. Many also reported nostalgia for eras they never lived through, and a strong attraction to the media, style, and design cues of those years. Routledge links this to an ambivalent relationship with technology, enjoying what it offers while worrying about what it takes away.
@memory_door Do you remember before the internet? Follow me please👍 📍 Instagram / X / SoundCloud: @Memory_Door 🧸Thank you for listening to my nostalgic song. Does it remind you of anything from your childhood?🚂 If you want to listen to the song, please click the link🎧 🎵 Spotify 🍎Apple Music ☁ Amazon Music ▶ YouTube Music ✨ YouTube Channel: @Memorydoor @6note Each piece you encounter here, both visually and sonically, is a heartfelt creation born from deep nostalgia and a longing for cherished memories of the past. The scenes are artistically rendered to evoke those precious moments, and the accompanying music is personally composed to resonate with the emotions of remembrance and yearning. We pour our artistic souls into every detail, driven by a genuine connection to these memories. For collaborations or inquiries, please feel free to connect with us at ✉️[email protected]. We welcome the opportunity to share our art and connect with you. #nostalgia #foryou #fyp #vintage #childhood ♬ childhood – daniel.mp3 & Zamaro
That tension helps explain why simple videos can feel so powerful. Clips, some real and some AI-generated, show 1990s teens spilling out of American high schools with no phones in sight, just chatter, laughter, and casual loitering. Nothing dramatic happens, yet the scene can feel oddly hypnotic because it shows a kind of presence many people think they missed. Comments often read like homesickness for an imagined teenagehood that was more social and less mediated.
The longing is also shaping behavior. Digital detox programs have been promoted in youth exchanges, and talk of a “dumbphone” resurgence keeps growing as some young people downshift to simpler devices. Phone-free parties are becoming a statement, and there is even a soft nostalgia for slower internet and the old blog era. Philosopher and communicator Leo Espluga, who has built a large following on TikTok, has spoken about reducing his digital footprint through phone-free walks and navigating without maps to reclaim time and attention.
Still, philosopher Diego Garrocho warns there is a fine line between learning from the past and mythologizing it. He argues that feeling out of sync with your era can inspire better possibilities, or it can harden into a rosy story that ignores what was difficult and unjust. Some data suggests a conservative drift among parts of Gen Z, with an Ipsos and King’s College London study reporting many young men feel gender equality has gone too far, and a Circle study in 2025 showing weak faith in democracy’s ability to solve national problems. Political analyst Mario Ríos reads this nostalgia as a symptom of reactionary politics, while Routledge sees another option, using the pre-digital past to pull forward what feels worth saving and build a healthier present.
What do you think is really behind Gen Z nostalgia, and where do you see it showing up most in everyday life? Share your thoughts in the comments.
