73 Memes About Life In The 1990s That Might Make You Feel Like You Used A Time Machine (New Pics)

The ’90s have been making comebacks for longer than most of us might care to admit. As early as 2008 (almost two decades ago!), Laura Barton, writing for The Guardian, was asking whether we were ready for a “90s revival,” declaring that “Nineties nostalgia is booming.” She pointed to the return of ’90s fashion, from Doc Martens and tartans to plaids and chunky knits, as well as the resurgence of the goth look and the return of the bob and the Rachel. ’90s movies, bands and TV shows were also enjoying renewed attention, while familiar faces from the era were making their way back into the spotlight.

All this sounds very familiar, but Barton’s article also captures something interesting about the timing of it all. Only eight years had passed since the (anticlimactic) Y2K countdown that ushered in the 2000s, and up until then, she noted, people were still “in the throes of an 80s revival, complete with a return to rave, acid house and fluorescent clothing, bum-bags and slogan T-shirts.”

The ’90s were then the next logical step, sure, but as she summarized, “Still, it can be discombobulating when you find an era you so recently experienced revived with such unseemly haste—some of us are still reeling from the effects of a decade spent largely coated in body glitter.”

It raises an interesting question: With just eight years between the dawn of the new millennium and a “90s revival,” did the ’90s ever really disappear? Whatever the answer, the years since Barton wrote her article have shown that our fascination with the decade isn't going anywhere. In fact, as Daisy Dunn wrote in 2025 for The Spectator, “At some point during the past decade and a half, it was decided that the 1990s were a golden age.”

We’ve seen its influence resurface in our fashion, music, and even video games—and a recent resurgence, it seems, might have something to do with Ryan Murphy’s Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr. & Carolyn Bessette.

The series premiered on February 13 and quickly became FX’s most-watched limited series ever on Hulu and Disney+. Described by Variety’s Ethan Shanfeld as “a time capsule of 1990s New York,” Love Story chronicles the tragic real-life love story of John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bessette.

But the show’s appeal seems to extend well beyond its viewership numbers. Writing for Vice, Ashley Fike described the series as tapping into a desire to return to “that curated 90s fantasy,” while Daisy Jones, writing for Vogue, reported that women were suddenly hankering after Levi’s 517s and oval sunglasses, with an uptick in Cartier Tank sales and celebrities sporting slip dresses and strappy heels.

There are numbers to back up the renewed fascination, too. According to Shanfeld, TikTok searches for both JFK Jr. and Bessette increased by more than 9,100% in the month following the show’s release, while the hashtag #lovestory had generated more than 21 million posts globally. But this impact also played out IRL: C.O. Bigelow, the store that sells Bessette's signature tortoiseshell headband, reportedly saw its highest accessory sales in its 188-year history, and Panna II, the East Village restaurant featured on the show as the couple’s first-date spot, saw reservations increase by 40%.

But both Fike and Jones suggest that the fascination isn’t really about JFK Jr. and Bessette—or even what they wore. Sure, Fike says they possess an “untouchable, high-gloss aura,” but she argues that the world surrounding them may be just as appealing—a version of the ’90s that people think of as “one of the last eras that felt private, physical, and not yet fully swallowed by the internet.”

Similarly, Jones says that while the fervor has “zeroed in on the style,” she believes it goes deeper. “I do think there’s more to it than that,” she says. “We’re craving a different time; a more relaxed world in which people went to parties and didn’t have a phone. Back when people met lovers in bars and no one said words like ‘looksmaxxing’ or got facelifts at 27.”

And perhaps this helps explain our own love story with the ’90s. It’s less about the actual decade and its objects (however intriguing) than what they represent—and the feelings they evoke. After all, you don’t even have to have been alive in the ’90s to feel the pull. As Daisy Dunn wrote in 2025 for The Spectator, “Members of Gen Z who have known only the colourless, anodyne first years of the new millennium speak of the Nineties in mystical tones.”

That’s because nostalgia isn’t necessarily about wanting to return to the past. A 2020 review published in Frontiers in Psychology suggests that reminiscing about meaningful times can enhance feelings of social connectedness, optimism and well-being. In other words, looking back can actually help us feel better in the present and even give us a more positive outlook on the future.

And maybe that’s why we keep coming back to the ’90s. We might not genuinely miss dial-up, corded phones or even our beloved Tamagotchis. But they can transport us to a particular time, remind us of who we were, or evoke a version of everyday life that feels comforting in hindsight. For some, that means remembering the decade firsthand. For others, it means imagining it through the music, fashion, movies and memes that came from it.