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“Put your headphones on,” Addison Rae purrs in the opening line of her hazy viral hit, aptly titled “Headphones On.” A rising It girl born unto the algorithm, Rae’s artistry is based on aestheticized nostalgia: Britney Spears-inspired pap pics, Madonna cone bras and, most recently, an embrace of old-school tech as a fashion symbol. [instagram-oembed url=”https://www.instagram.com/p/DImqowcTcFX/?hl=en&img_index=1″ /] The newly released song, which covers comparison, existentialism and the inherent sadness of pop-stardom, is predicated on the escapism of corded earphones. In a photo promoting its release, she poses near-nude with an iPod Nano nestled in her hot pink underwear. Retro tech is paramount to her stylized world-building, and she’s just the latest in a stream of fashion figures taking this approach. Designer Anna Molinari made a top from wired headphones. Stylist Giovanni LaDonis uses iPods as hair clips. On a recent street style outing, Julia Fox donned a Walkman dangling from her wrist. Paris-based label Maitrepierre famously explores the aesthetics of old-school tech through deadstock designs, from tops that emulate boxy computer monitors to flip phones replacing runway accessories. Even Chanel has given antiquated electronics the high-fashion treatment, releasing its own “CC” branded headphones. [instagram-oembed url=”https://www.instagram.com/p/DImDeg0uF6F/?img_index=1″ /] First, I saw the examples on my feed. Then, I started to experience them in real life. I realized the coolest girls I know are favouring nostalgic gadgets. One of my friends, for the past year, has been using a flip phone, which she playfully embellished with multi-coloured rhinestones. Another wears strictly wired headphones, effortlessly complementing her ’60s femme aesthetic. An older, more established pal keeps a point-and-shoot film camera in her purse, always whipping it out like a little treat at the right moment. It’s an admittedly alluring prospect: reverting to old inventions as a way to micro-dose life offline. Wired headphones are too cumbersome to have in your ears at all times. Flip phones aren’t conducive to endless scrolling. Film cameras make it impossible to obsess over your image. In the age of ubiquitous AI, visible tech feels almost cutting-edge: a physical device, unlike an omnipresent system, necessitates a level of separation. There’s a defiance in opting for these arguably arbitrary items—and that’s what makes them aspirational. This is the line of thinking behind cult-favourite Instagram account Wired It Girls, which enshrines antique-tech-users into a sphere of esoteric chicness. [instagram-oembed url=”https://www.instagram.com/p/C8K2jkrSZXJ/?hl=en&img_index=1″ /] “Wired headphones communicate that you can’t be bothered to keep up with the latest technology trends,” says account admin Shelby Hull, who posts to an audience of 17,000. She started the page in 2021, after the internet deemed wired headphones an up-and-coming accessory thanks to street style icons like Bella Hadid. Today, its feed is filled with cool people wearing wires, from Doechii to Paul Mescal to the ever-elusive Olsens. [instagram-oembed url=”https://www.instagram.com/p/DFQdDJyyTpM/?hl=en&img_index=1″ /] “Even though AirPods are minimal, there’s something so boring about undetectable Bluetooth accessories,” Hull tells me. “I don’t associate them with fashion, I associate them with tech bros who are taking loud calls everywhere.” On the contrary, messy wires “add a layer of mystery,” she says, adding that they bring “a certain je ne sais quoi” to an outfit. They also harken back to a simpler time: the era of Motorola Rzrs and early-day MySpace, when the world wide web was an optional extension of real life, not the main facet of human connection. (Before doom-scroll voyeurism, carefully crafted photo dumps and Story-like politics were pillars of everyday routines.) These days, with an unnatural overflow of information plastered onto our feeds, bulky appliances are an unspoken signal of signing off. Recently, I was inspired to resurrect my own digital camera. I dusted off the silver Canon I got back in sixth grade and began bringing it with me everywhere. I took it to art galleries. I brought it to dinner parties. I even whipped it out on a first date. My digi cam, in all its clunky conspicuousness, made the act of documenting my life feel less embarrassing. The flash takes at least 30 seconds to load, forcing my subjects into frozen smiles and demanding patience from everyone involved. The grainy quality washes people in a warm, innocent glow, free of the lip-plumping effects built into TikTok filters. Capturing a photo on this device is objectively more of a hassle, resulting in me taking less and enjoying more. At the very least, my piece of single-use tech is a reprieve from my abhorrent screen time and obscene amount of unread iMessages. But it also goes beyond that. Adorned with stickers and dollar-store gems, it’s an accessory that’s entirely unique to me. After finding fashion in vintage tech, I really do feel, to quote Addison Rae, like “every good thing comes my way.” Continue Reading
