Hifza Ehtisham

The New Love for Old Things, Rediscovering the Romance and Beauty of Another Era, Longing for a Time We Never Knew By Hifza Ehtisham In a world full of algorithms, artificial intelligence, and instant everything, Gen Z is finding beauty in the things that once felt conventional: handwritten letters, old films, vintage clothes, slow music, and the romance of a life lived offline. We are living in an era consumed by the need for speed. Artificial intelligence can create an image in seconds, a message can travel across the world instantly, and social media gives us an endless stream of new trends before we have even had time to comprehend the last one. We have grown accustomed to a world where everything is just a click away. Yet, strangely enough, the generation growing up in this digitally fast world seems to be looking backwards. Across fashion, music, travel, and popular culture, there is a growing fascination with another kind of life, one that embraces simplicity, authenticity, and the beauty of imperfection. Young people dress like characters from another decade, collect film cameras, listen to old classic songs, visit historic cities, and romanticize handwritten letters. It is almost as if we are nostalgic for a world we never actually lived in. Perhaps that is the point. Fashion has become one of the most pronounced ways to express this nostalgia, with aesthetics such as Old Money, Dark Academia, and Victorian gaining attention. From tweed jackets and tailored trousers to corsets and lace details, people wearing these pieces look as though they could belong in a photograph from decades ago. These styles bring the elegance of earlier eras into modern wardrobes, celebrating individuality and understated charm. There is something so powerful about clothing that does not immediately announce its brand. A well-cut coat or a simple cream blouse can communicate more than a large logo ever could. The appeal is not necessarily about looking wealthy; it is about looking intentional. Dressing well becomes almost like stepping into a different version of yourself. Think of the way people dress in films such as Little Women. The clothes are not simply costumes. They tell us who the characters are, where they come from, and what kind of world they inhabit. Even Bridgerton and The Crown have contributed to our fascination with historical fashion, reminding modern audiences that clothing can have atmosphere, weight, and meaning. Then there is the influence of the screen itself. Television and cinema have become time machines. Stranger Things, for example, brought audiences into the texture of the 1980s, denim, graphic sweatshirts, analogue technology, bedrooms filled with posters and, most importantly, a world without smartphones constantly demanding attention. The past holds a certain charm, making us long for a time we can only imagine. Perhaps the strangest part of nostalgia is longing for a time we never lived. We romanticize the stories our parents and grandparents tell us, of long days that seemed to stretch endlessly, simple joys that meant everything, and a life that felt less like a race and more like something to be lived. There was a certain innocence in not knowing everything, a quiet peace in being unaware of what we now spend so much time worrying about. Their world had its own struggles, but in the stories passed down to us, there is a warmth that makes us wonder if, sometimes, knowing less allows us to appreciate more. The feeling of romanticizing the past can be heard in music too. Artists such as Lana Del Rey have built entire worlds around vintage Americana, old Hollywood glamour, tragic romance and melancholia. Songs such as The Night We Met by Lord Huron or Love Story by Taylor Swift continue to resonate because they feel emotional rather than disposable. Even older songs like Golden Brown by The Stranglers have found new audiences through social media. We seem drawn to music that sounds as though it belongs to a memory. And perhaps that explains why the handwritten letter has become almost whimsical in a world of instant messages. In an age where a conversation can consist of disappearing messages, typing indicators, and a string of emojis, the idea of someone sitting down with a pen and taking the time to write several pages feels almost extraordinary. A handwritten letter carries the evidence of a person’s time, handwriting, and imperfections, which cannot be replicated with copy-and-paste text. The same appreciation is appearing in photography and art. Film cameras, old paintings, physical books, vinyl records, calligraphy, and handmade objects have gained a new kind of value. When artificial intelligence can produce a polished image almost instantly, something created slowly by a human hand begins to feel more meaningful. A slightly imperfect or blur photograph may feel more alive than a perfectly edited one. This desire for the tangible is also changing the way people travel. Instead of searching only for the most modern destinations, travelers are drawn towards places that feel as though they belong to another era. Edinburgh, with its stone buildings, narrow streets and Gothic atmosphere, can feel like stepping into a novel. Old European towns, quiet museums, libraries, countryside cottages and wooden cabins offer something that a five-star resort sometimes cannot: a sense of escape. People are not necessarily trying to escape technology forever. They are simply searching for moments when technology is not the center of everything. That may be why the idea of “dressing for the plot” has become so appealing. It is more than putting on a vintage dress or a tailored blazer. It is about treating ordinary life as though it deserves a little more imagination. Wearing perfume before going to a café. Putting on a coat and walking through the city with headphones playing an old song. Writing in a journal or reading a novel instead of immediately reaching for a phone. Visiting an art gallery simply because it is beautiful. All these small choices create the feeling that life is not just something

The Strange Reality of Growing Up, Things Nobody Tells You About By Hifza Ehtisham When we were little, we always wanted to grow up. We would say things like, “When I grow up, I’m going to do this…” as if entering adulthood was a destination where everything would finally make sense. We pictured ourselves having our own careers, making our own decisions, and living our best life. Growing up sounded fun because we thought it meant freedom. But nobody actually tells you what really happens when you finally get there. For years, we followed a clear roadmap. School led to the next grade, then to university, and ultimately to graduation. We always had another step waiting ahead. We became so used to these steps that we rarely questioned what came next. Then the roadmap ends. For the first time, you’re free to choose what you want to do, where you want to go, and what kind of life you want to build. But why don’t you feel free? Why is there so much pressure when nobody is actually pressuring you? No teacher is reminding you about a deadline or a syllabus telling you what comes next, yet somehow the pressure feels louder than ever. And suddenly, we realize that growing up is not as simple as we imagined it as kids. Then comes the real challenge: the job search. You watch your friends get jobs while you send out application after application, hoping to land a job, but then you start questioning your own capabilities. Instead of scrolling Instagram Reels, you find yourself scrolling more on LinkedIn. Life gets so serious that checking your email becomes the first thing you do when you wake up in the morning. You get interviewed and then get ghosted by companies. You start wondering whether you’re simply unlucky or not good enough. Then you look around and see that people who are already working are struggling too. Someone is thriving, someone is unhappy with their job, one of your friends got married, and someone just started a new business. You start comparing your timeline with theirs. You want to find the work that you love, a workplace that you wake up happy in the morning for. But you realize that you sometimes have to do things you don’t love because you have to start somewhere, and life still has bills to pay. And somewhere in between all of this, you learn bitter truths you never wanted to know. Sometimes even your closest people may not understand you. Relationships become complicated, people change, you have to change yourself too, and you realize certain things have to be accepted rather than fixed. That is a different kind of maturity – the kind you never asked for. You get nostalgic, missing childhood, school, and university, when life felt lighter and understanding everything was not necessary, and perhaps that was the part of peace. Sometimes it is better to live in uncertainty than to know something that takes away your peace from you. It hits you hard when you realize there is no going back. You have entered this phase, and there’s no going back. You need to show up, work harder, make decisions, and keep moving. Eventually, you understand that growing up isn’t about figuring out everything at once. It is about getting to know your potential, stepping up, and heading towards your own direction. We were always told to “be successful,” but nobody really explained what success actually meant. Maybe it is not a fixed destination to reach. For one person, it might be a career; for another, financial stability, family, purpose, or simply peace of mind and being happy. And maybe that’s the strange reality of growing up. We wanted to grow up because we thought it meant freedom. Then we entered adulthood and discovered that the real freedom comes with uncertainty, responsibility, and choices. The roadmap doesn’t really disappear because you have lost your way. It disappears because, for the first time, the road is yours to create. Maturity is when you realize that the real luxuries in life aren’t things; they are peace of mind, time, slow mornings, good health, financial freedom, people you love, and meaningful conversations. “The roadmap doesn’t disappear because you’ve lost your way. It disappears because the road is yours to create.”