The recent much-discussed Louis Theroux interview with Pete Doherty the singer of one of the defining bands of the noughties, The Libertines, confirmed what lots of us who have been watching have suspected: the noughties are about to have something of a revival. The noughties have always been thought of as a bit of a poor cousin to the 90’s – or perhaps more accurately a kind of comedown after the decadence and excess of the 90’s – but to compare what’s been is to kind of miss the point. It’s a bit like comparing apples and oranges.
What makes the noughties as culturally relevant as the 90’s is what they have in common with the culture of today and how much they sowed the seeds of where we – and young people in particular – are today. They say that those who fail to learn from the mistakes of the past are doomed to repeat it – and we are showing all the signs of bringing back the very worst from what was a difficult and often quite cruel decade.
Let’s consider Pete Doherty – a somewhat tragic figure and absolute monument to the (slightly more hidden) excess of the noughties. If the ‘90’s wore caning it as a badge of pride, the 00’s with at least one trip to rehab under its belt, was a little sneakier, with the first generation of young prototype-influencer/TV stars like Alexa Chung, Steve Jones and Miquita Oliver et al most definitely partying hard but still making it to work on time and making the first noises about wellness and meditation and all that jazz.
Pete Doherty never remotely tried to hide his excess, and it shows now and then some, which on first glance makes him seem like an alien, outlier figure in today’s celebrity culture of sobriety, wellness and coffee enemas. But scratch beneath the surface of coffee beans up your bum on the ‘Gram and you’ll find the younger of Generation Z after the years of lockdowns, yoga and mindfulness, are having their mulleted-heads (FYI, the mullet haircut is THE coolest hairstyle on the Gen A and Gen Z block) turned by the excess and bad behaviour of old.
Callie, 15: I know Pete Doherty is a bit of a mess, but with his poetry, his troubles and being so in touch with his feelings, he seems more real than all the boys crying on TikTok. He really seems to have lived. You could definitely see Timothée Chalamet playing him if he died.
Without wishing premature death on Doherty just so Timothée Chalamet could play him in a biopic – the Gen Z connection between a current pinup and notorious noughties one is unsurprising. Interestingly, Timothée Chalamet the quintessential Gen Z poster boy – pretty, gender ambiguous, unafraid to play it gay thus making it cool for all his straight contemporaries who did afterwards - but ALSO a smoker of actual cigarettes rather than a vape, vocal about liking a drink and has an edge about him that’s just all rather more noughties than typical twenty-twenties.
Perhaps uncoincidentally, for the first time this decade cigarette smoking, drinking alcohol and recreational drug-taking has risen amongst young people – a generation who up until now defined themselves by their sobriety, oft-criticised goody-two-shoes image, and judgement for the excess of their Gen X parents.
And then there’s bodies and body image. Whatever else your opinion of social media and the way it’s changed us in every possible way from the way we communicate to date, one of the positives was the body positivity movement. Unlike the ‘90’s (era of the supermodel) and 00’s (era of such ferocious and misogynistic body-policing, eating disorders were pretty much encouraged), the birth of social media allowed alternative body types to white, thin, and tall to not only be seen, but be celebrated and actively coveted. If you came of age in the 00’s pretty much the only pin-ups looked like Mischa Barton (in her skinny days), Jessica Simpson (in her skinny days) and Nicole Ritchie (in her so skinny days, all the magazine editors who put her on their covers should still be ashamed.)
The birth of Instagram and TikTok et al platformed beauty and bodies in all shapes, sizes, abilities, ethnicities, and states of dress and from this came a welcome rejection of body shaming and cruel judgement. If people – and quite often they happened to be white, powerful, middle-aged men who didn’t quite get the memo about the new rules – called someone “fat” or “ugly” – unlike the noughties where they tended to be given editorships of magazines and newspapers, now they are pilloried on social media and quite often forced to apologise by furious and powerful Gen Z-ers on said platforms.
But lately, specifically in the last year or so, there have been clear indicators that the myopic body fascism of the 00’s is returning in a big way. The Kardashians who despite their napalm-like impact on the body image of a generation of girls and women did fly the flag for the curvier woman have all lost enormous amounts of weight that may or may not be Ozempic-related. Ozempic and similar weight-loss drugs have been the top trending topics on TikTok in 2023, with an entire Gen Z language (“she’s got #Ozface) springing up around them and plenty of coveting of the skinny, hollow-cheeked, sunken-eyed look so reminiscent of the worst of the 00’s body-type trends.
Harlow, 15: I much prefer Kim and Khloe skinny. To me, they looked a bit chunky a few years ago, I think Kim looks amazing now she’s so tiny. My older sister (24) says she looks ill, I think she looks amazing.
Indeed, the recent ‘not ugly but poor’ trend highlighting the brutal cosmetic transformations models like Gigi and Bella Hadid have undergone to look like they do now, isn’t one of celebrating what nature gave you, but rather young people fantasising about having enough money to be able to afford Insta lips, eyes, ears and foreheads (yes, really foreheads.) Unsurprisingly, for the first time this decade, admissions into hospitals for eating disorders are spiking in teenage boys and girls and schools are reporting a huge rise in kids hankering after the uber-skinny and low-low body fat look, which is a huge contrast from the well, #fitspo look that’s typified the previous half-decade. So, in short, so very noughties.
History doesn’t repeat itself, but it does often rhyme and what we absolutely don’t want to do is echo the worst of the past while losing the best of the present. Nobody wants to end up like Pete Doherty or Amy Winehouse or a repeat of girls (and boys) trying to emulate Nicole Ritchie’s body type, but at the same time, you can see why teens might be a bit fed up of the moral prurience and tone-policing of the 2020’s.
If younger Gen Z’s and coming-of-age Gen A’s can find a balance between establishing a culture of fun, going out, IRL socialising and exciting culture that seems to have been lost in recent years whilst keeping a sober-ish, sensible-head, maybe just maybe the last half of the 2020’s can finally roar for young people.
I think a bits gone missing from the end of this sentence?
“Perhaps uncoincidentally, for the first time this decade cigarette smoking, drinking alcohol and recreational drug-taking amongst young people – a generation who up until now defined themselves by their sobriety, oft-criticised goody-two-shoes image, and judgement for the excess of their Gen X parents.”