I was frustrated because the size of my iPhone made it too big for my jeans pocket. But the retro personal CD player I’m currently struggling with is really problematic. There’s no way this will fit in any pocket. And the wire to my headphones is so short that I can’t reach it no matter what.
I tried to embed it inside the jumper hood, but to no avail. The neckline nearly choked me, the wire dragging my head back. I decided to carry it. How on earth did kids of the 90s survive?
I’m trying to emulate my weekly walk in the park with my iPhone and Airpods, but with 90’s technology. If ever there’s a chance you’ll hear the lyrics in your ears, it’s when you use this retro CD player and the included wired headphones.
However, I was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of Madonna’s voice from a passing car. Like the Bluetooth technology, the noise canceling also seemed to be innovative.
She wasn’t a fan of retro personal CD players
I’m a 1900s baby, born in 2002, and the oldest piece of technology I remember owning is a pink Nokia flip phone. On this phone, it took four presses to press the letter “S” and three more presses to press the letter “C.” ‘ – and a 6-year-old red MP3 player.
By age 14, I could simultaneously watch YouTube videos on my iPad, take selfies on Snapchat, and turn on Netflix as background noise. That was the standard morning, noon, and night, but if I really wanted to test myself, I would sometimes do homework on my laptop.
But when I asked my parents and grandparents about their childhoods, I sometimes felt jealous of the fun they had before social media. According to research from Bumble for Friends, 66% of Gen Z report meeting friends online, and according to Save the Children, only 1 in 4 children regularly play on the street. In contrast, nearly three-quarters of children in their grandparents’ generation played on the street. So several times a week.
It seemed much more interesting to knock on a friend’s door to see if they had time for a knock-and-bolt than to look through a shared Google calendar for a quick matcha coffee date.
And instead of an AI-powered app that swipes lipstick colors, how about using a physical make-up tester from the high street? This week I’m getting as close to that analogue life as possible to see what I can learn. I decided to try it.
I had done a digital detox before, so I knew what would happen if I only used my regular cell phone for work. Fomo’s pain is a mixture of security and serenity. It’s like being transported back to the real world.
But this was no ordinary technology ban. I had switched my phone camera to an old-fashioned Polaroid, Spotify to Discman, and iMessage for calls and letters. My Netflix subscription ended and Freeview TV started (thank goodness I have a TV license).
I hadn’t touched a CD since my mom put Olly Murs’ 2011 album in the car driving me to school, so getting my hands on one was the first hurdle. My boyfriend’s mother lent me some discs to last me a week, but I got bored after the first hour because there were only two choices and no 10-second skip button. Luckily, unlike the CDs of my childhood, the CD was free of scratches, but it was tough not being able to listen to another artist right away.
When I switched on the TV in the evening, the first thing that caught my eye was that EastEnders had changed. The last episode I saw was in 2017 when Ronnie and Roxie Mitchell passed away. Now I knew very little about the characters. That’s how the BBC’s 7.30pm slot was ruined on the first night. I was scrolling through TV Guide like a lost puppy, feeling like the Netflix limited series was starting with episode 4. Have News?, Channel 4 News, Coronation Street. There was nothing appealing about it. You can stream thousands of possibilities, pause them, or turn them off if you get bored or lost. I gave up and read Harlan Cohen’s book.
Before that week, I had warned my friends that if they didn’t reply, they were actually alive and I would just ban them for 7 days. Still, I thought my best friend might need an update on my life, so I grabbed a pen and paper and let her know. Granted, she would probably get a letter after I returned my trusty iPhone anyway, but it had been a while and it was better than considering the crappy TV option.
As someone who writes for a living and speaks with my best friend every day, I found it incredibly difficult to convey ordinary things by hand. Perhaps it’s because the message feels more concrete.
There is no backspace. When you write it down, it remains in ink and remains forever. I’m also a triple texter, meaning I send short but multiple text messages. Instead of explaining everything in one paragraph, you send it in four sentences, which creates unnecessary noise on your correspondent’s phone. Now I was faced with that annoying habit. I did not pay for the 4 traceable letters.
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I tried calling instead. The only people I always call are my dad and my nan who doesn’t know how to text. When my best friend answered the phone, the first thing she said was, “What’s wrong?”
Usually I only do this in extreme situations, like when I crash my car. When I said it was just to catch up, she laughed. “Please note it in your voice and I will listen to it later,” she said.
We had a 10-minute conversation before she left for the gym, and we arranged to meet for coffee two days later. She reiterated that she couldn’t cancel because I wasn’t going to check messages.
By the third day, all my time was spent on books. I didn’t like CD players, TV was boring, and I couldn’t communicate effectively with a pen, so I figured it was the next best thing.
It was a revelation. I used to be a big reader and won the school contest every year for reading the most books. I haven’t enjoyed a good book in several months. Even if I enjoyed it, I would get distracted by my phone or leave a few days between chapters when life got busy. It felt divine to be back to normal, uninterrupted. I finished reading all 352 pages of Daisy Buchanan’s The Pity Party in one sitting.
The third day is a coffee date and I’m hoping my friend will come over. As you sit in the cafe you had agreed to five minutes ago, you begin to wonder if perhaps you chose your least trusted friend for this.
If you don’t scroll through TikTok while you’re waiting for her, you’ll be reminded of all the times she was late or plans changed. The clock on the wall feels like it’s mocking me as I sit and stare into space. I should have brought a book.
I was relieved when she arrived 15 minutes after the appointed time. As I watched her buy an iced coffee using Apple Pay (which I had missed), she sat down and showed me an Instagram post.
I realized that many of my interactions depended on modern technology. It’s obvious that I’m not unusual since most people in the cafe are on their phones, but it’s frustrating that so many face-to-face conversations rely on the internet. I wonder how many memories that could have been made just by being in the moment were tainted by having to share them online.
I also learned something else. Going to bed without scrolling through my phone beforehand had a positive impact on the quality of my snooze. But what I love most about not using my phone is that I can wake up and go about my day without habitually checking my screen for 20 minutes.
My generation is obsessed with health and finding ways to relax and unwind. We’re all looking for answers on our phones, but it turns out all you have to do is write them down.
However, I will admit that the masterpiece of 90s technology that I noticed on day 4 was the Instax Mini 10, the first Polaroid camera released in 1998. 10 movies.
This camera was not only difficult to use, but also bulky. It was almost 30 years old, so I was hoping that some black-and-white blur that might look like me would come out of this obscene technology behemoth.
So it was a pleasant surprise that I liked what I received. Multiple memories were packaged in a 3 x 2 inch square, and the image quality seemed edgy and purposeful.
It was refreshing to only need one take to capture a moment. Nothing had to be perfect, I didn’t have to reshoot because my hair was out of place, I didn’t have to look for filters or try to hide skin. Those were raw images. And they are already framed in my apartment.
What did I learn from a week in the ’90s? Well, when I was little I experienced the Tamagotchi in 1996, the first portable DVD player in 1998, and the Sega Dreamcast. It’s a shame that I couldn’t do it. I didn’t miss social media as much as I thought. By the third day, I stopped thinking about that and enjoyed focusing more on the next day than on other people’s breakfasts.
But I also live in an era where I can contact friends living in different countries, and I missed texting them. Sometimes I felt bored and restless. Sure, the online world can be toxic, but it can also be fun. That’s true, but if it wasn’t for Netflix, I probably would have had more hobbies.
Am I still jealous of my parents and grandparents? a little bit. But it’s my sister who really looks at me with envy. Born in 1998, she was able to experience both worlds. I didn’t need a retro 1990s Discman.
