Be sleazy, be salacious… tacky is back!

For the past few weeks, I’ve been emphatically telling anyone who will listen that GOING OUT IS BACK. Whether this new lease of life is due to my near-death run-in with a car at Marble Arch or the fact I’ve been listening almost exclusively to Blackout era Britney and Harrison Patrick ‘The Dare’ Smith… I couldn’t possibly say. But the verdict is clear, fun is back, baby!

Personally, my music taste and cultural references haven’t evolved much past 2007 and luckily, I’m not alone. With Big Brother and the Beckhams taking over our screens and weaving their way into every work-place conversation of late, we all seem to be lamenting the loss of frosted tips and all-purple fits of years gone by. In contrast to the recent #y2k Depop resurgence and indie sleaze aesthetic that’s been rammed down our throats, this fresh return to tackiness feels deeper. It reflects a growing desire to be a little less polished, a little more rough around the edges.

The popularity of in-the-know newsletters like Spittle and hyperlocal meme accounts such as @sockshousemeeting indicate a desire to bring back the gossip columns and the tabloidy chit-chat. We all want to be in on the joke and make our online observations about each other into something tangible, communal and public. After all, it’s way more fun to poke fun at your friends and air your minor grievances for all to see, than to bury the drama behind hours of mindless, inconsequential scrolling.

Meanwhile, every trendy online publication seems to be awash with articles entitled Documenting the Undocumentable Youth Culture of X, with cool black and white photos of the cool photographers’ cool friends doing cool things – paying homage to mid-2000s tumblr with every snap. Even if it’s manufactured, it all feels a bit more DIY and a bit more human. By commemorating these so-called ‘scenes’, it makes us all feel a bit more in the moment and at the cutting edge of culture in the same way our pre-Instagram forefathers seemed to be, even if it’s not actually true.

Taking it offline and into the galleries: Rose Easton’s recent exhibition ‘Saccharine Symbols’ (complete with pastel pink carpet floor) really scratched the mid-aughts itch in my ‘Groovy Chick’ addled brain. Albion Jeune’s cohort of Effy Stonem-coded ballerinas at Esben Weile Kjær’s recent performance announced the return of sexy, sleaziness in no uncertain terms; glitter-encrusted skulls left a trail of sparkling detritus all over The Strand. While Alma Berrow’s cig-based ceramics at LAMB pay homage to post-party chaos in all its glory. Further capturing the naughty noughties spirit, Anya Gorkova’s show ‘Are you seeing anyone’ at South Parade was an immersive scrapbook of plastic diamantes and hand-written dating notes, transporting us back to the days of doodling hearts around your beloved’s name and pasting glitter to your bedroom wall.

For anyone now in their 20s, this golden era of trash TV and tabloid culture is but a hazy memory in our collective mind, associated more with primary school and parental supervision than sweaty clubs and late nights. As we grow tired of green juices and quiet luxury, we’re feeling our way back to something familiar, we’re returning to the not-so-distant past with newfound adult sensibilities and we’re finding it’s time to let our hair down! It’s all well and good mincing around, chain smoking Vogues, drinking martinis and discussing meaningful topics, but the truth remains… we’re tacky at heart! Puff on a fruity lil’ Lost Mary with a perfectly manicured hand, have a hangover and have fun – be sleazy, be salacious, be tacky.