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I got the shock of a lifetime when I was mindlessly scrolling on TikTok and saw a far too familiar set of wings. The Victoria’s Secret Angels have returned. No one asked for them or wanted them, yet here they are, picking up new celebs along the way.
If the Victoria’s Secret Angels could claw their way back to relevancy, I think any 2000s trend has a shot at redemption. Forget models in thongs. This is my comeback wishlist:
Matte Dream Mousse Foundation
Nowadays, we’re always trying to look natural in our makeup, and what’s the point of that? If you can see even an inch of my skin tone, I’ve failed. I miss the days when doing your makeup required the same amount of paint as a Picasso masterpiece. Forget a bronzed glow, I want to be orange and pasty. I want to finish my routine by slathering it over my lips. Everyone will KNOW I’ve done my makeup, and they’ll get the mysterious allure of wondering what I actually look like under this silicone mask.
I am so over the slicked-back hair look. It’s too easy, as I barely wash my hair anyway. If I wanted a greasy ponytail, I’d just wear one. Why spend my money on products for that? Nah, instead, I want to return to the glorious days of the quiff! I want to rock a huge lump of hair that goes into a ponytail. I’m yearning for that added wind resistance. It will give everyone seated behind me the fun distraction of counting all the bobby pins I’ve hastily stuffed in there. Plus, you get to contribute to a bigger cause daily with an excessive amount of hairspray.
Unhinged Reality TV
If you think reality TV is extreme nowadays, you have no idea. Scandoval would’ve looked a lot differently in the early 2000s and involved way more hair-pulling, drunken slurring, and heels wielded as a weapon. After a day of pretending to work, I want to sit back and watch some people so unhinged that I look mentally stable. I want TV shows like Playing it Straight, where the female contestant has to guess which of the men are actually straight and into her. Or Who’s Your Daddy?, where a contestant had to guess which of the men was her long-lost father. I’d even settle for some good old-fashioned Jersey Shore debacles in leopard print.
Don’t get me wrong, I love sticker sleeves and cute little floral designs, but they’re a little too classy for my liking. I preferred the joy of low-rise jeans revealing a pink bow right above someone’s ass cheeks. Or better yet, some quote in writing so cursive that you’d need to be inches away to read it. If I have to be subjected to low-rise pants everywhere I look, there better be an Easter Egg of a tramp stamp tucked away there, too.
I love overpaying for strips of cardboard-like fabric that hang awkwardly over my body. Triangl bikinis did this better than anyone else. I remember absolutely lusting over these plain bikinis and begging for one for Christmas. We all knew we’d never look like the models in them, but we’d joyfully flash someone trying! So forget flattering, comfortable bikinis; I want to all be a factory lineup in tiny Triangl bikinis, please.
There remains the eternal mystery of what waist belts were supposedly doing. It felt like they had accidentally wandered onto an outfit and stayed there, much like Michael Cera turning up to a movie set. It’s sad that we always give belts a purpose nowadays, and I believe they deserve a break from being overworked. Let’s go back in time to those chunky belts that hung over a dress and contributed nothing.
The glory of proudly wearing your underwear on view, hiking it up so far that it chafes your labia — glorious! We should all collectively agree to start whale tailing again, with thongs out and proud on our hips. Let’s all promise to do it, okay? Tomorrow, it’s thongs of glory and low-rise jeans. No more beige, no more oversized blazers, no more “clean girl” aesthetic. I want dirty girls out and proud this fall.
I’m not really sure why we all poked the plastic out of 3D glasses and wore them everywhere, but I’m here for the pointlessness of it all. Just because I have perfect vision doesn’t mean I should miss out on wearing glasses and achieving the sexy librarian look. I’d appreciate the chance to nervously shift my glasses higher on my head and blink up at my hero. Even better, let’s bring back those colored glasses with the shutters across them. I’ll certainly have blind spots the size of Jupiter and cause countless traffic accidents, but it’s worth it!
Gin and tonics, white wine, vodka seltzers, I’m bored of the alcoholic drinks of today. They’re safe, gentle, and easy to look at. I want to be visually assaulted by my alcoholic beverage. I want a color so extreme that it can’t possibly remain in my stomach for more than an hour. I want neon green or pink colored drinks. I want wine coolers that are 99% sugar and 1% alcohol. And I want to drink those through a straw for the slim chance that it’ll make me drunker.
I spent my youth preparing for this challenge only to find that it never came: day-to-night outfits. Every magazine told me exactly how I could turn a skirt or dress into an outfit that suits both the office and the club. My infinity scarf, owl necklace, and waist-belt are ready to go, but I have yet to be invited to the club right after the office. What’s a well-dressed gal to do?
Songs As Your Ringtone
“Sweet Escape” by Gwen Stefani was my first ringtone. I downloaded it onto my trusty Nokia and couldn’t fit any more songs afterward. So it became my ringtone, alarm, message tone, and just about everything else. I miss the days when a song would randomly start playing, and everyone would glance around to spot whose ringtone it would be. Now that we have ample storage space on our phones, why are we not assigning ringtones to each person? I want to hear classic songs blasting out at random moments, not that boring series of beeps.
Over-Editing Your Photos
I know photos are still edited these days, but that’s not the kind of editing I’m looking for. I want to go back to the days when we wouldn’t edit our photos on Instagram but on Picnik. I want black and white, sepia, and over-contrasted images. I want song quotes written in neon colors and badly drawn hearts. A picture says a thousand words, and we used to try to fit all of those words directly onto the image. And on that note, maybe we should start changing our profile photos weekly again? I want to keep up with all of the drama and take note of who is no longer commenting. I desperately yearn for the days when I could interpret someone’s relationship status through a change in profile photo.