We Zoomers ache for a simpler time. But why? And what does it say about us?
The technology behind vinyl records hasn’t been touched since 1948. Still, these records now outsell CDs for the first time since their sales were measured. Meanwhile, Polaroid’s low-tech, instant-photo cameras have reached a sales renaissance of their own. 2000s-era digital point-and-shoot cameras are also back and ready to flood your social media feed. And to this day, one of the most common gaming devices I see at Boston College is the Wii, an 18-year-old console incapable of HD display (let alone 4K) that has already been succeeded by two full “generations” of Nintendo products.
For the most part, this tech is obsolete. So if we can capture clearer pictures on our smartphones, listen to more music on Spotify, and play better games on the newest Xbox, why is Generation Z so attached to pre-2010s technology?
Older devices are better in some ways. With the right setup, vinyl records sound better than Spotify’s MP3 files. Polaroid cameras deliver convenient, instant print-outs that no iPhone can replicate. And whose grandmother doesn’t love Wii Sports?
Though these few advantages to older tech persist, I know most (or at least many) vinyl enthusiasts are not buying records for their sound quality. And, though I love Super Smash Bros. Brawl, there are definitely better games on my neighbor’s PS5. There’s clearly something else going on.
Here’s the scientific explanation. Consumer behavior researchers would call this fad part of the “consumer identity project.” In a nutshell, this theory dictates that we buy things to give us meaning and “fill the hole” left by the despair of modernity. In a world where technology keeps getting better, our generation of identity-seekers aims to feel different by embracing the static technology of earlier decades. Ironically, this has led much of Gen Z to flock to the same half-dozen products to harness a false sense of identity.
Soon enough, Gen Z will grow beyond this phase and Gen Alpha will take our place on the precipice of adulthood. The hamster wheel of nostalgic, identity-seeking consumerism will continue, except it will be dominated by former iPad babies who will reminisce about Cocomelon the same way we reminisce about SpongeBob. In other words, we Zoomers are slowly-rusting cogs in the nostalgia market machine—and new cogs are impatiently waiting to take our place.
Please note that I am a massive hypocrite. Point-and-shoot photos adorn both my camera roll and Instagram profile. When I have to give a fun fact at an icebreaker event, I tell people, “I like to collect vinyl records.” Lastly, playing Mario Kart Wii with my roommates gives me an undue sense of superiority over others. All of that said, how do I reconcile my tech habits with the cold, economic reality behind their renaissance?
Personally, I love the intangible aspects of old tech that modern life has lost in the transition to wireless connectivity, live-service revenue models, and social media apps. These attractive features from the past can show us what’s missing in the present and what we want for our future.
A vinyl record gives you access to a large, ornate, and physically owned album—something a monthly Spotify subscription can’t give you. A Polaroid camera puts totems of good memories right into your hands, and it won’t freak out if your iCloud storage runs out. Playing a Wii game, meanwhile, fills a room with in-person, four-player fun—all without begging you to pay extra for a Battle Pass or in-game currency.
In the modern, superficial, forever-online world that always wants to sell you something, nostalgic tech is a rare breed: it is offline, it is permanent, and it is plain. Nostalgic devices are not simply reliable machines or shiny baubles in the consumer rat race. Rather, they partly alleviate our ache for physical stability, ownership, and authenticity in a society that begs us to differ. For its part, Gen Z is begging back.
I would like to apologize to my friends at BC. Your vinyls do make you cool, so long as you recognize why you’re attached to them. I know you want to play them more—I want to play mine more too.
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