You want to know what I was like in the ’90s, kids? Take a deep breath and imagine Snapchat doesn’t exist, and the only way to find out who’s having a party tonight is to press *69 on a landline phone and ask someone’s mom.
We were built differently back then. I once had a three-hour argument in a mall food court about which actor was in that one movie with the bus, with absolutely no way to resolve it other than unearned confidence. I wish you knew what an indie record store basement smelled like vs. the charcuterie-catered, Instagram-worthy parties we’ve been throwing for you since you were eight.
I wore belted, baggy jeans, not for the silhouette but because they covered the fact that my primary source of nutrition was gas-station pretzels and lukewarm coffee. I wasn’t doing beach waves with an automatic curler from Sephora. My look was more “I passed out with wet hair on a radiator last night.”




