The familiar click of a flip phone snapping shut. The grainy photo flickering to life on the tiny LCD screen of a digital camera. Somewhere, an old iPod scroll wheel hums beneath someone’s thumb. These aren’t just outdated gadgets collecting dust, these are fragments of another time. And somehow, they’re creeping their way back into our lives.
You see, we live in an age where there’s always a new gadget being released. Something thinner, faster, smarter. A fresh upgrade before you’ve even unwrapped the last one. Take the iPhone, for example. The iPhone 11 doesn’t feel that old, right? But it’s already been six years. And it’s not just phones — headphones, tablets, laptops, TVs — they just keep coming, one after another, each promising to be the next big thing. There’s always a newer, brighter, louder release just around the corner. It’s exhausting, really. The constant need to keep up, the fear of missing out, the pressure to have the latest… it wears you down.
In a time when everything is ultra-connected, constantly updating, and just a little too perfect, it’s kind of funny, and maybe slightly ironic, that we’re craving the clunky, blurry, slower tech we once left behind. Even camcorders, those awkward, handheld relics once reserved for family holidays and YouTube vlogs that never saw the light of day, are now being pulled out to shoot full-on music videos in K-pop, giving glossy productions a raw, home-video feel.
With the comeback of these devices, we’re trying to satisfy a certain craving for something real. They held our music, our memories, and moments we didn’t share with the entire internet. They were imperfect, yes, but that’s what made them feel real. The scratches, the grain, the limitations, it all made things feel more ours. And now, in a world that moves at lightning speed, there’s something comforting about returning to the tools that once helped us slow down.
So why are we looking back?
We got a glimpse of the future. Sleek, timeless, always on. Our phones are smarter than ever, our feeds are never-ending, and everything we do is synced, stored, and analysed. In many ways, it’s incredible. But it’s also a lot.
We weren’t built for this level of connection. The constant pings, the algorithmic scroll, the pressure to curate every part of our lives, it’s exhausting. What was supposed to be fun now feels like work. Every photo is taken with an audience in mind and every memory is filtered before it’s even made.
So it’s no surprise that many of us, especially Millennials and older members of Gen Z, are starting to look back, and it’s not just out of nostalgia, it’s because we’re tired. Tired of being optimised. Tired of being watched. Tired of being ‘on’. There’s comfort in the unfiltered messiness of the past. Back then, your digital life was truly yours. A blurry photo lived quietly in your camera roll. And your iPod? It didn’t care if your music taste was chaotic. It just played what came next, not what looked good on a year-end recap.
We’re not trying to rewind out of resistance to progress. We just want a pause. A moment to breathe. A reminder of how it felt when technology added to our lives instead of consuming them.
K-pop’s role in yesterday’s tech wave
For a split second, it felt like K-pop had found a way to bottle time. When NewJeans — now known as NJZ — released Ditto, the world they built didn’t look like a typical music video. It felt like a memory. Like something you’d stumble across on an old hard drive, or a video a friend once Bluetooth-ed to your flip phone. There was something disarming about it — how unpolished it looked, how quiet it felt. It brought fans closer, not through high-definition spectacle, but through something that felt real. Like it wasn’t trying so hard to be seen.
Then came Riize’’s One Kiss, folding into that same sentiment. Here, the boys aren’t performing for the lens; they’re just being. Running through the streets of Lisbon, goofing off, getting lost in the moment… it feels like someone just brought a camera along for the ride. And here’s the thing, there’s a certain softness that only old tech can bring. The way the frame blurs a little when someone laughs too hard, the flash that hits too suddenly, the accidental shaky frames. These are the kind of features today’s ultra-sharp, ultra-smart devices just cannot replicate.
Fashion’s return to the blur
Fashion has been quietly shifting toward something more intimate and imperfect. As the world grows weary of sleek, overly curated images, brands are reaching for a softer, more familiar feel. Campaigns and editorials are becoming less posed and more lived-in — like moments caught in passing rather than meticulously staged.
At this year’s Met Gala, Louis Vuitton embraced this shift by using a camcorder to capture stars like BLACKPINK’s Lisa, Zendaya, Sabrina Carpenter, and Future as they arrived on the red carpet. The footage wasn’t crisp or polished, but it carried warmth and authenticity, bringing an unusual sense of presence — something traditional fashion coverage often misses.
The shift isn’t just a one-off moment — brands have been leaning into it. Remember DOLCE&GABBANA x SKIMS? It was sexy — sexy in a way that felt natural and raw. The grainy textures, that soft focus, the kind of confidence that doesn’t try too hard. That same feeling has now quietly crept into other corners of fashion, showing up in campaigns that feel more off-the-cuff than staged — where the light might be too harsh and the frame’s a little off. In pulling from the past, these brands aren’t trying to recreate what was once trendy — they’re tapping into what feels more honest, more grounded.
Playing with time
Looking ahead, it’s easy to believe the future will only bring faster, cleaner, and more flawless technology. But the growing affection for yesterday’s devices tells a different story: one that longs for something softer, more tender, and beautifully imperfect. Maybe the future isn’t about erasing every flaw, maybe it’s about making space for the warmth found in those little cracks.
These old devices carry more than just our data. They hold pieces of our lives. Messy, unpolished moments that feel raw and deeply personal. They remind us that life isn’t made up of perfect snapshots, but of memories that breathe through all their imperfections. In their resurgence, we find an invitation to rethink progress. To see it not as endless refinement, but as a return to what makes us truly human.
As we hold onto these fragments of the past, we might be quietly shaping a future that values depth over speed, embraces warmth over sharpness, and treasures memory over immediacy. And that future, as blurry, slow, and imperfect as it may be, might just feel a little more like home.
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