Remembering the 90s.

The 90s. That’s what I resonate with the most.

Not because I like to say “rad”, “gnarly”, and “tubular”…

But… because I took the early evening commuter train the other day. I board the train and I’m overtaken by fatigue — inexplicably. Boredum reigns. Everyone is dressed in beiges, greys, and blacks. Buried in their newspapers and momentarily using their blackberries. Hair in shades of grey, beige, and dark brown. No blowouts, no curls, no brushing. Just a lot of dishevelled hair. Matching their clothing. Ladies wearing distasteful boots and men in scrunched loafers. Sordid faces tired from long days at work. Seems like just a little over eight hours — and they are beat. An eery silence fills the train, and every time the door slides open and someone walks on or passes by, eyes stare upward from the paper they’re perusing to see if the passer-by is anything visually noteworthy. Eyes are glazed over, distressed. It feels like the Great Depression. Or perhaps it’s just me — who is greatly depressed — by the over 50s who are riding this train with me. I feel stifled. I feel like I’m breathing too loudly. Is anyone else breathing? Maybe it’s because I’m the only colour to enter this sea of black and white. I sit uncomfortably on the 30-minute ride feeling increasingly relieved at every stop with more people exiting. At least it opens up space in this crowded train car rolling into the depths of gloomy suburbia — whence they’ve all emerged.

And, it gets me thinking…..

These….are not my people (of course I feel solidarity with all of humankind, regardless of age — but you’ll see in a few sentences why I have problems ‘identifying’). Who am I kidding? These aren’t even baby boomers. These are a generation unknown to me. I’m not part of them. Where are the 27 to 49s? More specifically….where are the 27 to 40s? There’s an entire generation missing. Either that, or they’re invisible. Maybe they’ve moved to bigger and better places. Maybe they’re stuck taking care of their kids in distant Hudson or Saint-Lazare. Or maybe they’ve simply vanished! I mean…how can this be? Where are they?

So here’s what makes me a proponent of the 90s. It’s not because I’m Gen X. Because, I’m not — and apparently aliens have kidnapped that entire generation from off of the island of Montreal. I’m the Generation Y, I guess. Nah, not quite. Well I’m between X and Y — something like XY. It’s been called Generation Catalano. The generation stuck betwen Generation X and the Millenials. At least we have a name! If you don’t know what Generation Catalano is referring to — it’s simply because you don’t belong with us. Because everyone who’s a member can readily identify the reference.

awe ok, well if you’re not “one of us” then just check out the Wikipedia page for My So-Called Life, a TV show that was popular in the 90s.

We are the generation who enjoyed and remembers the 90s. See, the kids who are in 2nd year undergrad at McGill — usually about 19 or 20 — were born in 1991 or 1992. That’s an entire one or two years after the 90s had already begun. They would have been 8 years old in the year 2000. To them, the 80s are ancient history. The ones who are now 50 — would have been 29 in 1990 — so they really identify more with the 80s, I’d say. Either that or the 70s. They remember all the funky stuff from the 80s because their youth years — say 12 to 18 — were spent between ’74 and ’80 and then when they were 19 to 28, it was during the bulk of the 80s. I’m arguing that they don’t value or appreciate or properly remember the 90s.

You know…I’d even argue that our generation is hopeful. Full of ideas. Happy…different. Those people on the train though, I can’t pin them down. I mean, they weren’t Yuppies. Are they part of the 99% or the 1%? Well, certainly not the 1%, judging solely by their fashion sense. Probably the 99%, whatever that is. They certainly were not Hippies. Hipsters? Forget that. Socialites? Definitely not. Well, let me say, about the baby-boomers — I love so many things about that generation — they are my parents’ generation. They gave us probably the best music of all time. They had the best fashion of all time. Some of them were hippies. They lived through the disco era. These weren’t part of that era either…I guess I’ll have to figure it out. I mean, we live in confusing times…

So I started a blog:

Back to the 90s.

Hoping to bring a splash of colour into this dark, gloomy, grey train ride of city life with a little 90s neon.

Source: Harper’s BAZAAR, Diane von Furstenberg Lytton Small Neon Leather Clutch

 

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