English Version | Hello again 2000

For about two decades, it was the inspiration behind thousands of mood boards that filled (and continue to fill) the most crowded Pinterest and Tumblr pages. But it was never more than that: a puff of nostalgia. With the advent of new social networks, like TikTok, and the proliferation of innovative ways of shopping, that favor the circular economy, the Y2K aesthetic has risen from the ashes and became everything that those of us who live it on the spot feared most — the strongest trend of the season. 

We've been growing out our eyebrows for years, only to have them all waxed next — in case you haven't noticed, that's the next step before the final conversion to the Y2K aesthetic. It is not possible to go for the look and have a Cara Delevingne tuft. It is imperative to have a thin, almost invisible line, like the actresses of silent movies. This goes for us humans as well as for the inanimate beings that both follow and lead trends. Back in 2021 Italian streetwear brand GCDS launched a partnership with the Bratz Dolls to dress two of its most iconic dolls, Sasha and Yasmin. In addition to ultra bling outfits worthy of making Rihanna jealous, another of the things that stand out in these “collector's pieces” is the almost non-existence of eyebrows, a bit like what Bella Hadid, supreme ruler of the of the Y2K aesthetic along with Dua Lipa, already does on a daily basis. What does this matter? Everything. It is proven proof, if you will forgive the redundancy, that we seem to be willing to do whatever it takes whatever it takes to embrace the return of fashion’s darker decade — the 2000s. A “global mash up” (or “mix of totally different elements totally different elements”, according to Wikipedia) that was everything and nothing. 

Hip-hop and sportswear entered our homes through MTV, magazines screamed “logomania!”, “vintage!”, “preppy!”, “grunge leftovers!”, red carpets overflowed with glamour and sex — not always in that order. Everything was loud, carefree, simple, rebellious, non-conformist, naive, authentic. To write this is to assume a migraine 20 years too late. We were not saints but, truth be told, we didn't know what we were doing — or what we were wearing. It was this, too, that inspired designers like Nicola Brognano, creative director of Blumarine, to embrace this universe and reinterpret it. Since joining the Italian brand in 2019, his collections overflow with references to names like Paris Hilton, Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan. “I was obsessed with them when I was younger (in southern Italy). Even while growing up and thinking about becoming a designer, I always wanted to make women feel as sexy and powerful as they were”, he confessed to Dazed. And she succeeded. Blumarine it’s on its second life and became one of the hottest brands of the last seasons. With the help of stylist Lotta Volkova, the butterfly-shaped denim tops paraded down the runway again to the sound of Kelis. “My Blumarine is dirtier, bitchier, sexier”, assured Brognano.

But what was, exactly, Y2K, besides an acronym that points to a moment in the history of mankind? First of all, an apocalypse — digital, let's emphasize, because if there's one thing the millennium has been rich in, it's small apocalypses — that never happened. The heyday of bad taste, hysteria, visual screaming: Von Dutch caps, Ugg boots, Juicy Couture velvet tracksuits. It seems almost impossible that a decade associated with bad taste could suddenly be revered by an entire generation, but here it is, finally, rising from the darkness: the 2000s, that lost cause of the fashion world, which lived without cause and without direction, is now glorified and idolized — as well as its protagonists, with the aforementioned Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, and Lindsay Lohan, the same ones who were accused of committing acts of vulgarity every time they went out. And then there were Gwen Stefani, Pink, Christina Aguilera, Beyoncé (then the most popular member of a group called Destiny's Child), and Lil Kim. For years we prayed that the worst of that beginning of the century would never see the light of day again (we think of moments like Britney and Justin's denim overdose at the American Music Awards in 2001 — now we see them “reinterpreted”, a word that can be used for anything and everything, in total looks, in jeans whose waist defies the laws of gravity, and in jackets with crystals that are suddenly “incredible”).

Diesel did it, Miaou, which is a success in the United States and a favorite of Kendall and co., did it, Chanel did it (Resort 2023 collection, for the more incredulous). The tartan, which we saved for the dust rags, went up to the Miu Miu runway and made itself chic. Sport sunglasses, that dread of any teenager of the 2000s, are now the best-of at Balenciaga. Cargo pants, forgotten for endless seasons, are now “the” most sought-after item in any fast fashion store — and, we dare say, high end. The tank tops (day) were a success in Prada, Loewe and Bottega, the going out tops (night) sell like hot cakes, the scrunchies (or giant rubber bands, fearsome creatures that we swore on our hearts we would never own again, and that we now order from Net-a-Porter because the fabric is “different”), the chain belts with applications (Shakira?), the camouflages, the hoodies, the chokers, the net shirts… There is not a single element of the Y2K aesthetic that has been forgotten — not least because, alas, the Y2K aesthetic is a bottomless pit. Proving it are the dozens (hundreds?) of Instagram accounts that make the daily #throwback of images a cult shared by thousands of internet users.

In March 2002, months before the first issue of Vogue Portugal saw the light of day, Canadian Avril Lavigne released Let Go, her debut album, which included Complicated, the lead single that would make her one of the most relevant artists of the new millennium. The success was quick. Complicated broke several records — one of them being that any one of us, no matter how old we are, would be able to sing it backwards and forwards two decades later —, was nominated for two Grammy Awards, and elevated Lavigne to the icon of a generation. But what remained, beyond the music, was one of the biggest icons of the Y2K scene. The smoky eyeliner, the bleached hair, the ultra-sheer pants, the Doc Martens, and the weird girl look — even before anyone even used the expression “weird girl” —, Avril is the perfect poster girl of an innocence that will never come back. Even if trends manage to mimic, in detail, the outfits of the day of a time when there were no outfits of the day. And if melancholy strikes us when we recall times whose visual memory would cause our Instagram feeds to short-circuit, there is something very positive about this second wave of the 2000s: everything is more polished, more elegant, more refined. There are no more bare butts, no more pubic hair poking out, crop tops are contained (okay, like this). 

Miniskirts may be fervently short, but that can also be us who are stupidly older. The rhinestone dresses have a lot more swag. The makeup is much more “wow.” It's all much more Euphoria (2019). Not to mention that this revival pushes a lot (but really a lot) of people to second-hand selling platforms like Depop or Vinted, which stimulates the circular economy and promotes sustainability. I wanted to know why the younger generations are so excited about Y2K. I went directly to the source. I didn't even have to leave the newsroom. Carolina Nunes is an assistant in the Fashion Department — and, as fate would have it, Y2K finest, since she was born in 1999. “Maximalism. That's the first word I have to say. Everything in one thing. The use color. Not that it's my style, but I like to look at it. I was born in 1999, it was that period that I saw while growing up but didn't wear the clothes, I would look at older people and think ‘wow’, I thought it was cool. I like things like deconstructed crochet, cargo pants, no doubt about it, and the antithesis of big pants and small tops, I like it a lot.” On pictures more than on the street, she confesses. “Maybe I wouldn't wear a whole look, but a piece that reminded me of Y2K.” Why is it so... fashionable? “I think it's a generational thing. We grew up and looked at older people and said ‘wow, they're so cool!’, like everyone else does, and we never got to wear those things because we weren't old enough. Until now... I guess that's kind of it.” And to think that it took 20 years to learn that we were actually kind of cool after all.  

Translated from the original on The 20th anniversary issue, published November 2022.Full story and credits in the print version.