Nostalgia is no longer what it used to be

Sigh. Nostalgia isn't what it used to be. There was a time when nostalgia was booming business. The facade of whole cities could be maintained around a monument to the memory a dead White woman built by a dead White man. An industry that once thrived on selling sepia now finds itself struggling to monetise the pre-Covid years. Because the herd has lurched towards the everything-is-possible-but-never-to-be-confirmed future. Take Buckingham Palace, that gilded mausoleum of Brit monarchy and souvenir tea towels. Once, its gates were a cash register ringing with the sound of busloads of tourists eager to pay to catch a handbag-friendly figure waving from the balcony. Indian tourists would squeal in delight at the gates of Windsor Mahal, remembering a time when Maharajas and Maharanis meant something more than palaces converted to heritage hotels. But BuckPal's commemorative spoons now gather dust, and the Queen's Guard, once a living meme, has become just another man in a very tall, fluffy hat, wondering if nostalgia pays overtime.

Netflix may have reached the tether of selling the '80s in bingeable packages, and Spotify has moved on from getting too fixated on every generation's 'Classic Rock' (read: stuff their parents listen to) on tap. Why pay funny money on old things when even older people now find it dope to pretend that they're young?