It seems like a lifetime ago, and yet, it was only ten years ago. For some, this era marks their prime—being in peak shape, chasing ambitions with fearless energy, experiencing things in the moment, and believing time was something with endless supply. 

This was the time when happiness was truly a vivacious feeling, one that didn’t require cultivated routines, keeping up with materialism, or perfectly curated social media posts. It was a time where you just lived, uploaded some of the most random photos online, and did some very questionable things—but never once regretted it. And maybe looking back you might regret it. But who cares? Those times were pure fun (especially if you had a hover board). 

It was the age of acai bowls, grainy sunset pictures, skinny jeans, lip sync videos, obnoxiously large sunglasses, frappes, and glittery words on velvet sweatpants. It was throwing up peace signs or sticking out your tongue (on purpose) in photos, wearing sweatpants with Ugg boots, playing mermaids in the pool, and creating cover videos to trending songs. 

It was the height of Vine, the popular short-form video app, and the release of the Kylie Jenner lip kit. It was the time where Snapchat filters were eighty percent of our camera roll (right next to the photos that were overly edited with tinted filters). 

It was the time when Nike wrap headbands took over. And where the Snapchat dog filter was all the rage. 

This was 2016. 

And to think… It was only a decade ago. When you gaze backwards into this not-so-distant past, it almost feels like a foreign, untouchable land. It’s hard to believe this time even existed. And let’s be honest. If you saw someone walking around wearing bedazzled sweatpants or zebra print tights, you’d be a bit concerned. 

Assuredly, today we could probably do without the flashy clothing combinations and eclectic filters. But when you reflect back to 2016, there’s a sense of yearning for this era. 

Why?

No Matter Your Age at the Time, You Felt the 2016 Effect

It didn’t matter if back in 2016 you were age 12, 20, or on the cusp of 40 years old. The effect was felt. You either experienced it, watched your kids experience it, or sat back and watched it all unfold before you (sometimes in disbelief). 

The 2016 era is most heartfelt for the Millennial and Gen Z generations. It served those who were in middle or high school, were college freshmen, or were just starting out in the career field at the time. Some people remember its entirety, others experienced just the tail end of it. 

It’s sure that a fair amount of us can attest to taking those dingy, flash photos in the full-length bathroom mirrors of our middle school or those pseudo-artistic, black-and-white photos of your friends sneakers while waiting for the bus. 

The 2016 era was one where you did as you pleased. It was dancing to the beat of your own drum, so-to-speak. The pressure wasn’t there. No one set expectations. It was purely individualistic (even despite the fact that everyone was chasing the same trends). You made things your own. If a post didn’t get more than a few likes, you didn’t care. If you received a follow request from someone not in your immediate friend group, you accepted it. If you wanted to impress your crush, you’d post something to get his attention (and you can’t deny doing this. Everyone did it).

It was hyper-personal. It was spontaneous. It was carefree. 

You look back and see the endless memories. You might shake your head in disbelief and think, No way I actually did that. But honestly, you should feel grateful for that reaction because at least you had the guts to do it and not care what anyone else thought about it. 

And 2016 was probably the last time we saw this.
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We Grew Apart by Growing More Connected (Ironic, Right?)

The 2016 vibe was carefree, raw, and authentic. You knew the name of everyone in your class. The various friend groups meshed together, and it didn’t matter if you bounced to and fro. The trends were cohesive, so you could comment on someone’s silly band collection or ask what her frappe order is without entirely knowing them. You could take a photo and turn around a few seconds later to post it to social media. You could go to the beach wearing a mismatched bathing suit or get dressed wearing three different patterns. No one cared. You definitely didn’t.  

And then all of this vanished. 

We began to see social circles become more exclusive. The cliches in our classes took on a different, more separated role. Not everybody knew each other’s names anymore. And even if you did, if you belonged to a certain group, that sometimes meant pretending you didn’t. The decision to post a photo became a process. You took more time staring at your closet thinking of outfit combinations. You unfollowed some people on social media. You took down that puppy poster you bought from the school book fair. 

The million-dollar-question is: How did this happen?

It’s likely a product of growing up, sure. But there was something larger at play that caused society as a whole to experience this phenomenon: social media. 

But the culprit wasn’t in its presence. Nor was it in its existence. It was in its purpose—one that changed our behavior. It became patterned. It became staged. There was no more spontaneity about it. You couldn’t just post a random photo for no reason (and now you probably regret this because you can’t access that old account with dozens of unhinged photos). Hint: the password was probably something like "webkinzlover200."

You now pay more attention to your actions. Now, you carefully consider the plethora of photos taken, narrow down to the best few, apply a crisp filter, and pick a laid-back, reserved caption (without the cringe). You understand that what is displayed in the tiny little boxes of your Instagram profile is a direct representation of yourself. It’s your own personal brand. It’s exactly what you want others to think of you. 

You’re more aware of who is watching. More aware of how you’re perceived. You’re more selective. More strategic, shall we say. The decision to post a photo no longer occurs just a minute after taking it. It takes time, lots of editing, and asking friends for feedback before clicking "post now."

#BringBack2016

If you scroll through someone’s profile long enough you’ll see it everywhere—blurry, low-quality photos, grainy flashbacks, and captions that read, “Ugh, take me back.” There are graphic tees, ripped jeans, and floppy hats in almost every post. But the era isn’t just about the fashion. It’s about the feeling. 

Sure, it was cringey. And most of us don’t dare bring back any of the 2016 trends (that cheetah print skort can stay stuck in the past). We don’t necessarily miss the ankle booties and overly edited sunset filters. We definitely don’t want to log into the old Snapchat account. And as you scroll through the endless images, you can’t help but feel a rush of nostalgia. 

So, is the current obsession with 2016 because we miss it? It was definitely a shock to realize it was just a decade ago. But as we look at it more, we realize that it was an entirely different experience. 

So yes, we miss it—but not in the way you’d think. 

In 2016, your persona was a collection of moments. It’s how people knew you based on your interactions with them and the way you were talked about by others. It was documented by inside jokes, blurry school dances, cafeteria lunches, awkward angles, and all. It was simply being present. 

Today, every action carries weight. Your inner monologue might sound like this: 

Will this fit my aesthetic?

Does this align with my “vibe”?

Who will see this?

Who has seen it so far?

What will they think?

We’re more aware. And not necessarily in a good way. 

And perhaps that’s why 2016 feels so nostalgic in hindsight. It represents the last era before the shift happened—before algorithms dictated what you saw, before influencers told you what to think, and before the moment felt monetizable. 

But the uncomfortable truth is: 

We can’t actually bring back 2016—and not because the trends are outdated (because they definitely are). But because we aren’t the same anymore. We’ve grown. We’ve evolved. We’ve become more conscious of ourselves, how we’re perceived, and the surrounding world. That awareness isn’t inherently bad—it’s just the first thing we think about. 

So, let’s not bring back chunky jewelry and the "messy bun" that takes hours to perfect. Because we don’t need to bring back 2016, we just need to reinstate that mindset we had before we started caring. 

The part that was simply living.