I was a child in the 90s. I had bright pink Pocohontas leggings and a hula hoop and SCENTED pens and a Furby called Coco who didn’t stop squawking about needing food or something for the entire decade. It was a wonderful time to be alive.
But now it’s the 10s, a time of austerity and unhappiness and Ed Milliband’s grimacing plastic face. I no longer have Pocahontas leggings. My pens smell only of ink. The Fresh Prince is barely ever on and that TY beanie baby collection I meticulously collected because they SAID it was going to be WORTH SOMETHING is worth exactly NO POUNDS.
It’s also no longer socially acceptable to dress up in lycra, scrawl the word ‘Saracen’ across your forehead and spend the rest of the afternoon bashing your younger sibling over the head with an empty water bottle screeching AWOOGA – so what actually is the point, when you think about it?
Well the point is this – we can bring back the 90s. It’s not too late. It’s now ok to wear dungarees. I know it’s ok because they sell them in Topshop thesedays and Topshop are basically the ones who decide what is ok. So it’s definitely fine.
And you know what else you can do now? WEAR SCRUNCHIES AGAIN.
Seriously. It’s not a drill. I’ve seen them in Vogue. I’ve got one. It’s brilliant. I feel young again. Later I’m going to dance in a field, and make daisy chains, and then I’ll ring my mother to scream at her for a full hour about that time that she didn’t feed my Tamagotchi when I went to school and now it’s DEAD and I worked so HARD to keep it ALIVE and OH MY GOD does she not UNDERSTAND?
Scrunchies, though. Scrunchies are brilliant.