Why Gen Z Women Are Obsessed With The '90s

In a lot of ways, Gen Z has really been thrown to the wolves. The first generation to grow up with ubiquitous internet and social media, their entire lives have been spent online. And as the detrimental effects of doing so are borne out in the research, Gen Z is starting to take stock of their situation.

Before we knew that Meta was tracking our every move, and Amazon could hear our thoughts, social media was a cute, trivial pastime (posting photos online for your friends to see!). Most of us thought, “what harm could it possibly do?” Well, a lot, apparently, and Gen Z is beginning to feel it. They know intuitively there’s something wrong with being so thoroughly plugged in, and having their lives turned into content for strangers to consume. And they’re yearning for something different. 

Cue the nostalgia for a golden age. An age where you could go out with friends on a Friday night, and have absolutely no evidence of what happened afterward except your hazy, Radiohead-filled memories. An age where looksmaxxing consisted of using a little makeup and asking for the “Jennifer Aniston” cut at the salon. Maybe laying out in the sun for an hour for that golden glow. 

Millennial Hot 

Yes, in pining for a simpler time, Gen Z is obsessed with the 90s and early 2000s, and rightfully so. Y2K, or the "Millennial Hot" era, was peak. The 90s/00s were a vision of Victoria’s Secret Angels prancing down the catwalk in actual wings, and pre-BBL Megan Fox (such an innocent time). Things were more straightforward, and easier to suss out then. There were no 12-step skincare routines, no "that girl" morning protocols that required hours of effort. Hot people were hot because of something they were born with, not because they had a regular filler/botox appointment that was kept religiously. (You think Adriana Lima let a needle near her face in the 90s? I think not.) You either had it or you didn’t. 

In fact, if you were hot in the millennial era, you were hot almost in spite of yourself; not because of it. 90s skincare was basically this: Cetaphil and a washcloth. Maybe a soft scrubber brush if you were fancy. Optimal skin tone came from water, summer, and bronzer. Back then, beauty was low-maintenance, high-impact. Everyone realized that at some point in the self-care process, there were diminishing returns. “Good enough” was actually enough. After a few low-key interventions (literally just makeup and a flatiron), you were good to go.

Instagram Face

Which obviously isn’t the case today. Now, there is no end to the amount of tweaking and upgrading one can do in the name of self-optimization. And Gen Z feels the difference.

The WSJ Opinion Substack, Free Expression, noted of today’s high-profile women, “Nearly all of them are carbon copies of the 'Instagram face'—high cheekbones, big lips and flawless skin, all increasingly possible because of cosmetic enhancements and photo filters. And it isn’t only older actresses wanting to preserve their youth; it’s Gen Z influencers chasing the cartoonish features popularized by the Kardashian sisters. The more perfect a face becomes, the less character it reveals. And for the rest of us witnessing this quest for some plastic ideal, even natural beauty now seems like a flaw. So it’s easy to romanticize a pre-Botox era when women didn’t spend quite as much time on skin care to feel beautiful.” 

The Real World

But it wasn’t just beauty that was different in the 90s/early aughts. Going out was actually fun. The night began crowded into a bathroom for final makeup and ‘fit checks (dress code: spaghetti straps and cutoffs), Britney on the radio, and one (literally one) selfie taken with a disposable camera. No one was checking their phones (there wasn’t much to check), no one was posting a last-minute "get ready with me" (there was nowhere to post it). Then you filed out of the house, piled into your friend’s dad’s truck, and, yes—this was a real thing—cruised the boulevard. And actually saw things IRL. Like you were on The Hills. (Or so you imagined.)

The rules were different, then, too. Unlike the latchkey parental ignorance that Gen X experienced, growing up in the 90s/00s meant there was enough parental oversight to keep you on your toes, but enough negligence to leave room for opportunity. If you wanted to see your friends after curfew, you couldn’t do it virtually. You had to climb out your window and do it in person. And then, you were free. (Which, by the way, is where millennials learned to adult: in the vicinity of absolutely no adults anywhere, and no ability to track you down if things went south.) Friday nights at 2 am were Lord of the Flies, MTV Real World edition.

Transcendental

With the ability to go back and live virtually through any period of time via the internet, Gen Z sees this analog existence and wonders: why don't we have this? Why was my coming of age so different? And understandably so. Jo Hayes, an etiquette consultant, recently told Newsweek, "Gen Z and younger millennials are nostalgic about the past because the present, in many ways, is terrifying. The modern world is overwhelming, overstimulating, with a tangible absence of the three transcendentals that make up a healthy, civilized society: truth, beauty, goodness—the poor generation is hankering for old fashioned goodness.”

Perhaps it's not actually the 90s that Gen Z is pining for, as Hayes said, but the intangibles. The things that make life worth living, like truth and beauty. They seem to be longing for a version of girlhood that feels less performative, less surveilled, more present. Gen Z wants permission to stop optimizing, and start living.

It’s Vintage

One way that Gen Z is declining this chaotic, overstimulated existence and embracing value is by shopping vintage. On its face, it may seem like simply a fashion choice. But really it’s a rejection of an entire ethos. In the age of more options than we know what to do with (fast fashion, lightning-speed trends), Gen Z is opting for old, quality, and one-of-a-kind. 

ThredUp’s 2026 Annual Resale Report reflects unprecedented growth in the secondhand shopping industry, of which “Gen Z and Millennials [drive] the vast majority.” And Mark Silverstein, co-founder of an app that pays teens/young adults to give shopping insights, said recently that Gen Z clearly prefers “quality and value,” and brands that “marry nostalgia with modern style.”

In an article detailing why Gen Z loves shopping vintage, Byrdie wrote, “In a style climate where mass production runs rampant and the viral trend cycle sends pieces from cool to outdated at record speed, a piece that feels timely yet not overdone is a hot commodity. ‘Thanks, it’s vintage,’ has become the ultimate… flex.”

Blueprint for the future

In reality, the 90s obsession for Gen Z isn’t so much about looking back as it is a blueprint for what they want the future to hold. Of this nostalgic generation, Silverstein said, “They’re curators. They’re able to mix and match, and do things their own way. And so that gives them the irony, the play and the ability to… bring their own flavor of what’s cool.” In essence, the more Gen Z is offered, the less they want. Because what they really want is something true, something beautiful, and something good. In looking to the past, Gen Z is searching for something real.