Preppy is the New Hipster

As a lover of vintage clothes, bakelite plastic and eighties music, the concept of borrowed nostalgia for an unremembered past is not something new to me. On this, the fifth anniversary for the day that changed the way we think about security, I am taken back five years ago to Boulder in a blueberry-induced haze I got the news of what happened in New York. I was scared, but not scared enough. I felt so removed from all the things in my life that were real and important. The images on television, the voices of loved ones-these things were so far away from me both physically and psychologically. Its not as though I could have done anything, but five years later I still find myself consumed with guilt for being so far away, so helpless. I want to grieve properly. I want the memories. Flipping on the television at the gym, I see the commemorative segments on the news and I feel like I am watching “I love the eighties”, rather than bits about something that actually happened in my lifetime. All morning I have been searching for a reason to explain this feeling. I can’t.