Lithium Magazine
  • Home
  • About
    • Editors
    • Writers
    • Artists
    • Photographers
  • Contact
    • Work With Us
  • Events
  • Shop
  • Read
    • Sex & Love
    • Culture & Entertainment
    • Activism, News, & Politics
    • Life
    • Photography
Instagram
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
Followers
Followers
Lithium Magazine
Lithium Magazine
  • Home
  • About
    • Editors
    • Writers
    • Artists
    • Photographers
  • Contact
    • Work With Us
  • Events
  • Shop
  • Read
    • Sex & Love
    • Culture & Entertainment
    • Activism, News, & Politics
    • Life
    • Photography
  • Fashion & Beauty

The Y2K Renaissance: Fashion As Pleasure

  • November 9, 2020
  • 3 comments
  • 5 minute read
  • Kiddest Sinke

I’m in Los Angeles, and outside my window there’s a girl dressed in a bedazzled velour tracksuit. It’s not Juicy Couture, but it might as well be with the words “CUTIE” smack dab on her ass. She’s wearing those chunky Skechers sneakers, the ones girls at my middle school used to get bullied for wearing but are somehow fashionable now, and her sparkly lip gloss is so poppin’ that it’s worthy of a Lil Mama music video cameo. The girl is taking selfies while posing with a bejeweled Hello Kitty flip phone. 

I’ve seen this scene before. In Mean Girls or Clueless or Gossip Girl or any of those early 2000s teen dramas that I used to watch as a child. Or maybe it was on YouTube or MTV—a snippet from Paris Hilton’s The Simple Life or a Britney Spears music video. No, it must have been Blaque or Destiny’s Child or Missy Elliot, or another Black icon from my youth. It’s easy to forget that they were the pioneers of this aesthetic. 

I’m talking about low-rise jeans and belly button piercings. Platform flip-flops and bucket hats. Mini skirts, mesh tops, and satin slip dresses with baby tees underneath. Monochrome and terry cloth, skirts over jeans, chunky jewelry, and other relics from a strangely luxurious past life. I’m talking about rhinestones on everything: your flip phone, acrylic nails, the back pocket of your jeans. I’m talking about designer purses and graphic tees, cartoon characters and logomania splattered across suits and handbags, all decked out like the latest Bratz doll collection. I’m talking about “Y2K fashion”—early-2000s trends marked by their boldness, their glamor, their extravagance. An aesthetic that was sparked by the turn of the millennium—a time marked by prosperity and technological advances—which crashed with the 2008 recession, when it suddenly became uncool to flaunt your wealth. 

“People were dripping in gold. There was bling on clothing, jewelry, accessories,” said fashion journalist Christina Binkley. “Fashion had been really loud and it was a huge party, and then that shifted literally overnight.” 

While the wealthiest consumers continued to shop wherever they pleased, there was definitely a mainstream pushback against the luxurious looks of the early 2000s. Instead of flashy statement pieces, minimalism dominated the fashion industry, the average consumer opting for wardrobes composed of basic clothing staples and quality over quantity, according to Vox journalist Eliza Brooke. Think normcore and athleisure, mom jeans and ankle boots, and other subtle nods to the ‘90s. 

So you’d think that in 2020, a year plagued by many of the same economic uncertainties of the 2008 recession, Americans would gravitate toward the same frugal looks. But instead, we’re seeing a resurgence of the fashion trends that were rejected post-recession—plastered on billboards in major cities, lining the clothing racks of fast fashion stores like Forever 21 and H&M, and dominating Instagram and TikTok. But why? Why is a fashion era defined by extravagance suddenly having a resurgence during such a terribly un-extravagant time? I decided to interview some Y2K fans and fashion experts to find out.

“I think the reason it’s gaining more attention is because as teens and early adults we have more responsibilities and more things to worry about—so we love looking back on our childhood and remembering the simple things that made us happy,” explains Jocelin Alva, owner of @y2k.slut, one of the largest Y2K Instagram pages. “We all grew up watching Mean Girls and other high school movies where teens would wear mini skirts and platform shoes. Now that a lot of us are older, we’re bringing back Y2K fashion to finally have the chance to dress like we belong in Mean Girls or Legally Blonde.” 

This kind of nostalgic reminiscence makes sense, especially in 2020—when political turmoil, economic instability, and public health risk have continued to escalate under the Trump administration. To cope with the present moment, we look back fondly on “simpler” times,  perhaps with rose-tinted glasses, not always by choice but rather out of survival. 

“People naturally turn to nostalgia during difficult times, because memories can be reassuring and make us feel optimistic in the face of tragedy,” says Andrew Abeyta, psychology professor at Rutgers University. One psychology study, conducted by Ha Youn Kim and Yu Jeong, found that retro fashion can “overturn any concerns people may have about the gloomy future and the harsh reality.” 

In the case of Y2K fashion, this “overturning of concerns” is closely linked to childhood regression—not just reminiscing on past aesthetics, but actually embodying them.

“I think this generation is infatuated by other eras, more so than any other generation,” says Kaiya Shuntaya, Lithium writer and student at Carleton University. “Almost every fashion trend that’s popular right now is emulating an aesthetic from the past.” 

Our generation’s infatuation with past eras, coupled with the marketability of Black aesthetics when co-opted by white people, has created a breeding ground for the resurgence of Y2K fashion. And while the fashion industry is constantly repurposing old trends, it’s impossible to ignore the racial ramifications of this cyclical relationship or “reimagination” of clothing designs, especially when the original source of a trend is erased or obscured when a later designer repackages it as something “new.”

“I think it’s important for more people to recognize that a lot of 2000s fashion was influenced by the Black community, just as many other trends were and continue to be,” explained Erika Hallam, owner of @blondestuckinthe2000s, another one of the largest Y2K aesthetics pages on Instagram. “I think an emphasis on nostalgia in fashion can be negative when people fail to realize or acknowledge where the trend came from.”

As a Black woman myself, I empathize with this feeling—the frustration when white women get praised for dressing how women of color have been dressing for decades. I worry that people’s obsession with vintage aesthetics will obscure not just the cultural roots of certain clothes, but the oppressive structures of the era in which these fashion designs were created, too. 

But at the same time, I don’t blame people for latching onto clothing associated with better times and memories. Recently, my friends and I have found ourselves indulging more and more in fashion escapism—shopping vintage and returning to trends from our childhood. It’s like we’re desperate to hold onto the few moments of pleasure we remember, embodying an aesthetic of luxury that just doesn’t exist for us anymore and probably won’t for a very long time. 

My grandpa always says that our generation knows nothing but a world of pain. It’s true. Our generation grew up in a post-9/11 world—one plagued by inescapable climate change, racism, and war. We were born into an unstable world. But Y2K fashion gives us stability, even if it’s a false sense of it—fleeting materialism, the comfort of slipping into a bedazzled velour tracksuit or a mesh butterfly top, feeling free for just a moment. It’s imperfect, but sometimes that’s all we have.

 

By Kiddest Sinke

Illustration by Emma Baynes

Related Topics
  • clothing
  • Emma Baynes
  • fashion
  • Kiddest Sinke
  • PLEASURE
  • race
  • Y2K
Previous Article
  • Life

In Defense of Guilty Pleasures

  • November 4, 2020
  • Alice Garnett
View Post
Next Article
  • Sex & Love

Squirting, Explained

  • November 10, 2020
  • Em Odesser
View Post
You May Also Like
View Post
  • Fashion & Beauty

Thank You, Instagram, for Ruining My Face

  • February 23, 2021
  • Chloe Rose
View Post
  • Fashion & Beauty

Faith, Freud, and Fetish: The Impact of Galliano’s Fall 2000 Collection

  • February 17, 2021
  • Aarohi Sheth
View Post
  • Fashion & Beauty

Fiorucci’s Revival: 16th-Century Art Meets Depop

  • January 29, 2021
  • Irine Le
View Post
  • Fashion & Beauty

25 Years Later, “Clueless” Fashion Is Still, Like, Totally Important

  • January 26, 2021
  • Bec Oakes
View Post
  • Fashion & Beauty

An Intimate Look at Intimate Apparel

  • January 21, 2021
  • Cierra Bettens
View Post
  • Fashion & Beauty

Makeup in Conversation with Frostie Delite

  • December 5, 2020
  • Aashna Agarwal
View Post
  • Fashion & Beauty

The Body-Positive Movement Will Not Be Advertised

  • December 1, 2020
  • Modesty Sanchez
View Post
  • Fashion & Beauty

2020 Is My Year of Online Vanity

  • October 22, 2020
  • Madeleine Burgess
3 comments
  1. bri says:
    November 25, 2020 at 2:41 am

    okayyyy this is so good

    Reply
  2. lauren says:
    December 19, 2020 at 3:50 pm

    I want to print this article out and bedazzle it all over thats how good this is

    Reply
  3. lk says:
    December 19, 2020 at 3:50 pm

    in other words, im a y2kslut for this piece

    Reply

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Featured Posts
  • 1
    Sexual Empowerment or Reckless Endangerment?
    • March 2, 2021
  • 2
    What’s the Point of “Fake Accounts”?
    • March 1, 2021
  • 3
    Oops!… We Did It Again: Why We Get Off on Women’s Pain
    • February 28, 2021
  • 4
    “Whole Lotta Red”: A Feverish and Avant-Garde End to 2020
    • February 28, 2021
  • 5
    Blind Worship and the Films of Quentin Tarantino
    • February 27, 2021
Recent Posts
  • Why You Should Reject Music Elitism
    • February 26, 2021
  • Middle School Ends, But “Pen15” Is Forever 
    • February 26, 2021
  • How TV About Getting Lost Taught Me About Survival
    • February 25, 2021
Categories
  • Activism, News, & Politics (69)
  • Culture & Entertainment (141)
  • Fashion & Beauty (31)
  • Life (133)
  • Photography (63)
  • Sex & Love (68)
Search
Instagram
OnlyFans, selling worn underwear, sex work—are these acts of sexual empowerment or reckless endangerment? As Modesty Sanchez writes, “Because OnlyFans creators are portrayed as entrepreneurs taking control of their image and brand, the role that the platform itself plays is often obscured and dismissed, especially since the company prefers to hide behind the feminist, sex-positive glow emanating from the sex workers that have flocked to the site.” Often, the dangers of online and IRL sex work are simply swept to the side while corporate exploitation is covered up by a girl boss narrative. Read the latest on Lithium now ⚡️
What’s the point of “Fake Accounts”? Written by Lauren Oyler, Fake Accounts is a perfect addition to the list of much-overhyped millennial reading: Normal People, Bad Feminist, How to Do Nothing, etc. And if Oyler wasn’t such a harsh critic of that specific literary circle, this novel would just be another pretty well-written, unmoving book. But Oyler has gone after too many media darlings like Sally Rooney, Jia Tolentino and Roxane Gay in open takedowns that center on her distaste for moralizing, self-absorbed, digital-first writing. Read Lithium writer @katwilliiams take on this book, live on the site now 📚
Britney Spears, Tessica Brown “Gorilla Glue Girl,” and trauma porn all have something in common—they are representations of our fascination with women’s pain. In @tamaravjones’s latest piece for Lithium, she points out that “It’s up to readers to support better journalism and think about the consequences before sharing their unfiltered hot takes on social media. Britney Spears’ legal battle will continue and inevitably, someone else will take Tessica Brown’s spot as the internet’s main character, and I can only hope that we manage to break this cycle before someone else gets hurt.” Live on Lithium now 💫
Playboi Carti’s newest album Whole Lotta Red is the rapper’s ARTPOP. While it’s different from a lot of the rap dominating the Billboard 100, Carti does something a lot of mainstream acts are afraid to do: experiment. Lithium writer @kaiya.shunyata dives deep into Whole Lotta Red and discusses how the album, like Lady Gaga’s ARTPOP, is a fantastic work of exploration and departure from the rap that mostly dominated 2020. Read about it now 🎧
When you’re first getting into film, you tend to hear the same names repeated over and over again: Fincher, Scorsese, and, most of all, Tarantino. But when @kaiya.shunyata rewatched his directorial debut Reservoir Dogs, she couldn’t help but think of his mistreatment of actresses (notably, Uma Thurman), his use of the N-word in films, sprinkled in like a garnish he and his fans can’t live without, and decades of controversies. She writes, “It’s become impossible to ignore the way Tarantino has been worshipped, while simultaneously not changing the things for which he’s been criticized.” Read about it on Lithium now 🎬
Middle school sux. Hulu’s Pen15 follows thirteen-year-old best friends Maya and Anna as they tackle an endless seventh-grade year. From day one, they face humiliations that only strike when you are thirteen, like bad haircuts and periods. But Pen15 sets itself apart from all the other middle school dramas by not only having good stories and actors, but drawing attention to the fact that even performing thirteen is a complex thing. Read about it now on Lithium, written by Jade Stillwell 📚
We’re all culprits in contributing to the shame and embarrassment that have become synonymous with listening to specific artists. Rex Orange County has become the unofficial pinnacle of a wannabe-indie girl who’s a regular Urban Outfitters patron. A Smiths fan is egotistical and decidedly unable to get laid. Bon Iver attracts the coffee shop connoisseur with a God complex. @elliergreenberg’s latest is all about why you should reject music elitism— this one is a must-read. Live on Lithium now 🎵
@holt.sheena’s latest piece is an ode to garage bands and punk shows past. She writes, “I loved every part of it—the moshing (which I observed, perplexed, from the sidelines), the music, the sense of belonging.” Read her latest piece on Lithium now 🎸
Shows about getting lost are meaningful in a lot of different ways, especially during the pandemic. Watching shows like Lost and Survivor make us wonder, “how do people skip their skincare routine for more than a week?” to deeper examinations of trust and acts of selflessness when storylines like allies and sacrifice come into play. Alex Eich writes, “These are both stories about our magnificent, if inconvenient, need for other people. And they taught me to find beauty in a shared will to survive.” Read about it now on Lithium 🏝

Input your search keywords and press Enter.