Converse sneakers on my feet, a dreamy Chainsmokers track playing in my ears, a plaid shirt tied around my waist, a visible piercing, and EOS balm always within reach. What was awkward yesterday is a statement today. As 2026 promises to be more anxiety-inducing and uncertain than ever, we gladly look back. We celebrate 2016, a year when our selfies bore the Retrica stamp and our stories were filled with Starbucks cups and palm trees.
Looking back to 2016: a year full of color
"Happy New Year 2016." No, it wasn't a typo, nor the result of a particularly boozy New Year's Eve. Fingers didn't slip on the keyboard in the euphoria of the countdown. It was intentional. In these troubled times, 2016 is something of a lucky year for us, our collective refuge. It's the year of the "mannequin challenge," the excessive dog filter, the strawberry-scented Vans, and the photos where we tattooed "Forever Young" on our forearms. Thinking back on all those color codes and maximalist dress codes, we find ourselves saying that almost symptomatic phrase: "Things were better before."
No need for a high-performance "Back to the Future" machine to jump back into our ripped micro-shorts and rediscover the feel of a velvet choker against our skin. All it takes is a quick look through our archives, the ones that today's youth would consider "cringeworthy" or "awkward." Many are in denial about 2026 and prefer to relive that era, which seems like the Stone Age to today's teens. 2016 was kind of our golden age, a pivotal year when social media hadn't yet invaded our lives and we were indifferent to the opinions of others.
It was the year when "swag" wasn't boomer slang, but the most used hashtag under posts with saturated colors. It was also the year every photo was edited by Retrica and we filled in our eyebrows to the soundtrack of Zara Larsson's "Lush Life." We still remember the fruity imprint of baby lips on our lips and the Victoria's Secret mist on our tanned skin. It was the year of staged yet spontaneous snapshots with heart-shaped hair and fingers spelling out "LOVE."
@nostalgicteendream #fyp #2016 #2016nostalgia#viral #2016vibes ♬ Lean On - Major Lazer & DJ Snake ft. MO
Rediscovering the aesthetic comfort of a bygone era
In 2016, everything seemed more peaceful, simpler, lighter. 2016 was a bit like our paradise amidst the current chaos, our emotional Eldorado in the general instability. We took photos for fun, not to get likes or obey dictates. And our Snapchat stories were more like a random vlog than a carefully scripted and meticulously planned shoot. Instagram and Snapchat were still spaces for gentle creativity, Tumblr a collective mood board. All of this created an emotional cocoon, where everyone could define themselves, recognize themselves, and feel connected to others without pressure. No wonder 2016 became a rallying cry.
The pro-2016 adults who are reclaiming "I love NY" t-shirts, succumbing to tie-dye again, and rediscovering the voice of Charlie XCX are those same teenagers who, in 2016, had no other priorities than admiring sunsets and finishing their Polaroid film. They're also the ones who dreamed of roaming the streets of Palm Springs, acquiring the Louis Vuitton Alma bag, and having an in-ground pool just to practice hairflips. 2016 was a year when we saw life through rose-colored glasses, and not just through heart-shaped ones.
2016 was a pivotal year, not overly digital, but enough to fill an Instagram feed. It was a kind of happy medium between modernity and a vintage feel. Moreover, on the timeline, 2016 falls after the 2008 financial crisis and before the Covid-19 pandemic. This explains the palpable zest for life and contagious enthusiasm. And whether by chance or not, we didn't need self-help books to cultivate positivity: it was innate.
Nostalgia, the best remedy in the face of uncertainty
If we retain a sweet and peaceful memory of 2016, it's because it was a year of discovery, letting go, genuine coolness, and self-affirmation. Yet, our memory seems to have eclipsed some details of that year, which was also the year of Brexit and Trump's first victory.
In reality, 2016 is a point of reference, just as the year 2000 and its low-rise jeans were. This world is familiar to us; it speaks to us and comforts our inner child. We cling to it, not out of regret, but for protection. 2016 is our emergency hotline in times of danger. It also reflects a nostalgia that is almost therapeutic.
Nostalgia isn't a weakness of spirit; it's a safety net when everything is shaky. In short, 2016 returns as a comfort year, not for its specific objects or looks, but for what it represented: a delicate balance between creativity and security, personal expression and collective belonging. In 2026, we become the Tumblr girl we wanted to be in 2016, reliving that year like the refrain "Forever Young."
