I have always felt that I was born in the wrong era.

I loved my early 2000s childhood— my Polly Pockets, riding my bike around the neighbourhood until dusk, the Argos catalogue at Christmas. But I did sometimes wish I was a little older during that time.

I was always trying to be like my Mum. She seemed so fashionable to me, so iconic, with her asymmetric bob, oh so skinny eyebrows and tortoiseshell sunglasses. I followed her around in my pink princess heels, wishing I was wearing her chic black ones. I remember being delighted when, as a teenager, she gave me her Levi baby tees and the polka dotted handbag I’d had my eyes on for years.

My love of the nineties/noughties is reflected in everything I do as an adult. The style I’ve finally landed on after years of wardrobe nightmares is Summer Roberts preppy-meets-cool. Low rise jeans, micro skirts, flared tracksuit pants, Ugg boots, Mary Janes—and anything pink, yellow, cheetah, striped, sequinned. My biggest style icons are (probably unsurprisingly) Lorelai Gilmore and Rachel Green. Don’t get me started on that green slip dress!

Speaking of fictional characters, TV shows were also elite during that era. They were packed full of comfort and nostalgia. No drama or violence; just cute outfits, perfect Autumn days, boy-next-door heartthrobs and vintage charm. When I first stumbled across one of my favourite series of all time, I was just starting out as an English student at a prestigious university. Although she lost direction in later seasons, I resonated with Rory Gilmore’s studious nature and love of books. I found myself channelling her as I strolled between red brick buildings and penned papers in the law library overlooking campus.

But what is it about the nineties/noughties that continues to inspire girls and women today?

Individuality is rare in the modern world. Social media filters self-expression by promoting popular trends and leaving us vulnerable to scrutiny. In the pre-smartphone environment of the 90s and early 2000s, girlhood wasn’t curated for a screen. It was real and free and feminine. It was lived through teen magazines and sticker albums and diaries. Technology has stripped us of our creativity, and has left us craving the DIY charm of physical media. Would Rory have used AI to edit the Yale Daily News? I don’t think so!

Since my frontal lobe developed and I began to loathe how much time I was spending on my phone, I have become a serial Hobbyist. Scrapbooking, crocheting, painting, learning guitar, even pottery… You name it, I’ve tried it. In all these attempts to distance myself from the digital ecosystem, I have accidentally reconnected with my inner child.

I remember a life filled with books, games, and summer evenings spent drawing on pavements with chalk. My most treasured possession was a beautiful doll’s house my Nan curated for my sister and I. She decorated each room with wallpaper and carpets in different colours and styles — it even had tiny lamp shades with working electricity!

Nowadays, children as young as I was when I played with that little house, are raised on Instagram and TikTok.

Yes, we also had technology. I loved my Nintendo DS and my Wii and later on my pink iPod Shuffle. But they weren’t connected to the internet, and they didn’t dictate my daily life. I played Just Dance at birthday parties and occasionally listened to music through wired headphones while singing into a hairbrush.

What was once new and exciting has become overwhelming. It’s no wonder a lot of us crave simpler times and yearn for a return to such bliss as having to sit down at a computer to access the internet. For me, it’s more than just nostalgia. It’s a sadness for the girlhood of today, who will never know what it’s like to just enjoy things without so much societal pressure.

So, even though I used to wish I was older — for the heels, the brows, the era I still admire — I will forever cherish the girlhood I experienced. I am glad to have been young enough to soak up the last fragments of the analogue world, where BlackBerrys and their satisfyingly clicky keyboards were the best thing since sliced bread.

While I’ll always love playing dress-up in the styles of the past, I have realised that being a child of the early 2000s was its own kind of magic — one I carry with me, proudly, into adulthood.