For the Women Who Still Know All the Words to “Oops!… I Did It Again.
I was born in 1995 (I am only revealing this for the sake of this story), which means I was just old enough to remember when dial-up internet sounded like a robot screaming into the void, but too young to have a full-on MySpace phase without adult supervision. I also know what it means to record my favorite Backstreet Boys music video on VHS (yes, that grainy rectangle) and felt something shift in my bones when I saw butterfly clips in a store again in 2025.
If you’ve recently found yourself rewatching Friends for the eighth time, considering low-rise jeans despite your better judgment, or seriously contemplating a Spice Girls-themed party at 34, you’re not alone. In fact, welcome to the group chat. We’ve got Dunkaroos, Lip Smackers, and mental breakdowns lovingly scheduled between 8 and 9 p.m.
The truth is… Millennials are living in a loop. A happy, glittery, chaotic loop of 90s and 2000s nostalgia. And maybe, just maybe, we’re doing it for a good reason.
The Soft Glow of a Simpler Time
Let’s be honest. Adulting? A scam. When I was a kid, I thought being in my 30s meant I’d own a house, be married to someone who looked like Shane West, and have a fully stocked fridge that didn’t contain only oat milk and leftovers I’m pretending I’ll reheat. But here we are, swiping through Zillow listings we can’t afford, waiting for delayed therapy appointments, and having dinner that’s 60% emotional support snacks.
So, we reach the past. Because, unlike the algorithm of our present-day lives, the ‘90s and 2000s made sense. Shows had theme songs (cue the clap clap clap clap), music videos had dance routines, and life was measured in how many Lisa Frank stickers you had in your notebook.
Remember The Simpsons? It’s still running—yes, somehow—but we loved it back then because it gave us a weird sense of structure. And Seinfeld? A show about nothing that means everything. It’s hilarious how the tiniest things—George losing his parking spot, Elaine’s pushy “Get out!”—now feel like a masterclass in anxiety management.
Why Did We Ever Stop Wearing Glitter?
The 2020s have been giving us plenty of reason to revisit our old selves. And part of that comes with the fun stuff—makeup trends that shimmer, sparkle, and slide right into our core memories.
Glittery eyelids, frosty lips, impossibly glossy lip gloss, and body glitter that smells vaguely like watermelon? That’s our war paint. Y2K fashion is back, and sure, we know the low-rise jeans are a trap (they always were), but that doesn’t mean we won’t entertain the idea of a Juicy Couture velour tracksuit on a particularly hormonal Tuesday.
We’re leaning into the chaos and the comfort. And let’s not forget the time we believed a single silver eyeshadow could solve all our problems. Honestly, maybe it did.
But Why the Loop?
This is the part where I slow down and talk to you like you’re curled up next to me on the couch with a hot drink in hand (or a cold wine spritzer, I won’t judge).
We’re looping because the present is hard, and the future feels like a browser that won’t load. Millennials were promised flying cars, world peace, and debt-free college. Instead, we got climate anxiety, layoffs disguised as “quiet hiring,” and the haunting pressure of being online all the time.
So we run back—not to escape—but to remember. The past had its flaws, sure, but it also had community. Saturday mornings meant cartoons, not meetings. MSN Messenger was our safe space. The Spice Girls taught us about girl power before we could even spell feminism. Britney Spears reminded us that being “not that innocent” was a kind of rebellion, and the Backstreet Boys? They just made us feel like someone would always say, “I want it that way,” even if we didn’t know what “that” was.
We’re looping not because we can’t move on, but because it helps us breathe.
The Reboot Generation
Have you noticed how many shows are getting reboots? Gossip Girl, Gilmore Girls, Sex and the City—some good, some…well, let’s just say some. But these reboots aren’t just for the networks trying to make a buck. They’re also a mirror. They show us how we’ve grown and how much we’ve clung to the things that made us.
I watched the Friends reunion and sobbed—not because of the Botox (though it was distracting)—but because it felt like someone hit “play” on a part of me I didn’t know I missed. A part that believed in slow love, group hangouts without group chats, and owning one phone instead of three apps that all do the same thing.
So What Do We Do With All This?
Here’s where I tell you there’s no right answer.
You don’t have to ditch your adult life and go full Delia’s catalog (unless that’s your thing, then YAS). You don’t have to throw away your pink Motorola Razr you still secretly keep in a drawer. What you can do is honor the loop. Let yourself wear the butterfly clip, cry over a rerun, or sing “Say You’ll Be There” at karaoke like you mean it.
If revisiting the ‘90s and 2000s helps you survive today, that’s no regression. That’s resourcefulness.
Because we are a generation that makes healing playlists from Napster memories, that holds trauma and glitter in the same breath. We watched The Simple Life and then grew up to have not-so-simple lives. And now, we’re just trying to find pieces of ourselves in the returns, the frosted makeup, the bubble letters we once wrote our crush’s name in.
One More Thing Before You Go
To the millennial woman reading this—whether you’re nursing a baby or nursing a hangover (or both), whether you still own your HitClips or just bought a vintage Tamagotchi on eBay—I want to say this:
You are not stuck. You’re sentimental. You are not childish. You’re remembering the parts of you that once felt joy.
If the loop brings you comfort, let it. You can wear cargo pants and also carry emotional baggage. You can listen to NSYNC while healing your inner child. You can be a grown woman who still buys Hello Kitty pens.
We’ve been through a lot. So if you want to live in a Lisa Frank dream where the biggest problem is your CD player skipping—well, friend, I’ll meet you there.
I’ll be the one with the body glitter, ordering a Diet Coke, singing “Oops!… I Did It Again,” because… oops. I really did.
Let’s not escape the present. Let’s just make room for the girl who used to believe in it.
