Buying Into Nostalgia

Everywhere I turn lately, I'm inundated with "Remember when?" scenarios harkening back to the good old days when anything and everything was so much better in every possible way.  Back when, as kids, you rode your bikes virtually anywhere without a worry, inserted a dime into a vending machine and pulled out a Coke or went to your neighborhood variety store and bought licorice for a penny apiece.  You know, back in the days when you could get an appointment with your family doctor on the same day, not have to worry about locking your doors when you went out and got to drive in cars so solidly built you could bust through a farmhouse without getting a dent.  Yessiree, those were the glory days when people meant what they said, walked softly and carried big sticks, didn't sass their elders, ate everything on their plate ('cause people in China were starving), and took long, slow drags off unfiltered Camels without even considering the possibility of cancer. That's right, folks, back when it was Miller Time all the time.

Make no bones about it, it's official, nostalgia is the latest, hottest thing.  All that and a bag of chips.  What was old is now new again, and people can't seem to get enough of it. Everyone's backtracking, conjuring up the past, yearning for the good old days, jonesin' for more satisfying times, a sure sign that today's scene isn't quite getting it done; evidence that something's definitely missing.  Somehow, the age of smartphones, AI, hi-def TVs, Amazon free deliveries, 24-hour news cycles, product influencers, legalized gambling and cannabis, track lighting, celeb worshipping, Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter, TikTok and access to every manner of Real Housewife shows imaginable has let them down. Unsure of what they truly want, they gravitate back to what they once knew. Or at least the version they convince themselves they knew.

Clearly, fear is at the core (it always is), translating into revisionist scenarios of the days when perceived physical safety was in abundance.  When the almighty dollar more than held its own, providing "a chicken in every pot and a car in every garage". Back when things seemed so much simpler and people felt more grounded, totally content in knowing their place in society. These were times when the family all came together to discuss the events of their day over dinner and watch, with the rest of the nation in unison, as Walter Cronkite--the most trusted man in America--related the daily news, without a political bias (I know, crazy, right?).  At least, that's what nostalgia's take is on what transpired all those years ago because its M.O. is to bank on people's inability to accurately assess the totality of what actually transpired .  

Okay, before I give this shape-shifting, snake-oil-selling, misleading sentimentalist propaganda its proper comeuppance, how 'bout an origin story: Today's definition of nostalgia is a far cry from back in 1688 when Johannes Hofer coined the term in his dissertation as a medical student, describing it as a severe homesickness, an actual disease. Later, in the 19th century, it was downgraded to a type of depression or melancholia, then morphing in the late 20th century into a more wistful feeling about childhood and the pop culture related to that time.  And then, of course, once the ad men down on Madison Avenue realized its potential, they crafted it into the slick, warm and fuzzy package that it is today, where our yearning for things past is now a universal concept designed to get people to buy stuff.

So, yeah, that's what this is all about... the money (it always is).  Be it an ad in a magazine, on a billboard, TV or a social media platform depicting airbrushed days of yore, just know that it has been brainstormed, storyboarded, focus grouped, rewritten and then pitched within an inch of its life by the ad agency to the client before it gets the okay to induce endorphins into your synapses, causing you to rush right out and buy into the dream. Sorry for the "man behind the curtain, showing you how the sausage is made" scenario (that and the mixed metaphor), but the truth is these ads are as nefarious as today's fake reality shows.  I don't know about you, but I prefer my nostalgia organically, originating from my own memories, as nebulous as they may be, sans the in-your-face product placement, the sepia-toned pictures and the sappy copy written in an old-timey font. Guess I'm just old-fashioned that way.