CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE GROWN-ASS MEN DRESSING LIKE IT'S STILL 2008?

i am genuinely at my breaking point. i swear to god i am losing my absolute fucking mind watching everyone around me act like being a walking, breathing dictionary of 90s bullshit is a substitute for actually having a soul or a functioning life.
WHY. why are we like this?? i’m 30. you’re 30. we’re all 30. why the fuck are you still posting about what flavor of gushers was the best or what character from some forgotten nickelodeon fever dream represents your "vibe"?? are we actually just that broken? is this it? is this really the only way we can survive in society without just walking into the middle of the street and screaming until our lungs give out?
it’s like a pathetic, sad little security blanket for people who can’t deal with the fact that we’re getting old and the world is a dumpster fire. nobody gives a shit about your "nostalgia" when we’re all trying to figure out how to exist in this godforsaken timeline. but no, keep telling me about how much better life was when we had dial-up internet and pogs. pogs, man. really? that’s what we’re hanging our sanity on?
AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED on the fucking fossils in this city who are, what, pushing 40? 45? these people are a special kind of hell. they’re not quite the "lost in the 90s" crowd, but they are just as stuck in a time warp, only their time warp smells like mildew and failed dreams.
i’m looking at these middle-aged absolute units trying to squeeze their entire existence into skinny jeans that were clearly designed for a literal twig, not a guy whose BMI is doing a fucking cliff dive off the deep end. you are forty, my guy. you are not a pop-punk bass player from 2005. stop it. your calves are screaming for mercy, the circulation in your legs is probably a distant memory, and the aesthetic? it’s not "retro," it’s "i haven't bought a new pair of pants since the bush administration." and the smell—god, i can smell the stale cigarettes, the desperation, and the absolute lack of hygiene from five feet away.
and then—oh, don't even get me started on the fucking hats. what is with these guys and the hats?? they’re always some kind of beat-up, sweat-stained fedora or a flat cap that makes them look like they’re trying to audition for a shitty cover band that only plays at 2:00 AM in a dive bar that hasn’t been cleaned since the 90s. they wear these hats like they think they’re hiding the fact that they’re completely irrelevant, like it adds "character" or some mystical "i used to be cool" vibe. newsflash: it just makes you look like you’re one bad day away from trying to explain to a barista why real music died in 2008.
they act like they’re still relevant, still in the loop, while looking like they’ve been dragged through a dumpster, and i have to share space with these people. i’m out here trying to make something, trying to build shit, and i’m being crowded out by people who look like they smell like a wet basement and think that "fashion" is whatever didn’t fit in the donation bin fifteen years ago.
it’s genuinely offensive to my eyes. i’m 30, and i’m already exhausted, but at least i don’t look like i’m decomposing while wearing pants that were meant for a skeleton. why are they still here, acting like they’re the peak of society, when they’re just walking, sweating disasters in outdated denim? someone needs to tell them that the party ended, the jeans don’t fit, and for the love of everything, burn the fucking hat.
tl;dr: grow the fuck up, stop obsessing over pogs, and throw away your skinny jeans before the fabric literally fuses to your skin.