Nobody likes a capitalist–anymore. Mainly because, in this day and age, it’s impossible to become one with the limited high-paying job positions available that don’t make one want to blow any of her remaining brains out. But in the 1990s, it was still fun to lust after useless yet attainable objects (only attainable in that your parents paid for them, since, as baby boomers like to lord it over you, they had much more wealth to spread to their children than millennials ever will).
While the video for Charli XCX and Troye Sivan’s anti-Prince “1999” explores many nostalgic elements of the 90s not at all limited to ’99 (which one would think it ought to considering the specificity of the title), one of the more nuanced and therefore captivating aspects of the clip show giving “down memory lane” highlights of the decade is just how much inane bullshit we were peddled “back in the day” (one that XCX and Sivan were barely cognizant for, yet still know the value of pulling at their listeners’ heartstrings with false wistfulness).
From Baby G watches and Nokia phones to a fridge stocked with Sunny D and Surge, the attention to detail is relatively impressive for two barely scraping by millennials. Co-directed by XCX and Ryan Staake (best known for Young Thug’s “Wyclef Jean” video), we’re taken on a safari of images that are easily placeable to any child or teen of the 90s with a working TV (because yes, TV, not internet was still king). Maybe it’s even believable that Sivan had one back in South Africa.
As Charli apathetically enters her Lyft (always got to have that product placement)–a Mercedes–and for some reason gets in the front seat with her driver to the tune of soulless beats, she puts her headphones on (Beats by Dre, naturally, for more product placement) and texts away on her iPhone before getting sucked into it and back into the past (not exactly a Robert Zemeckis-worthy way to go through time, but alas, we’ll have to take it). Comparing the only three accoutrements of capitalism we see in 2018–an on-demand transportation company, celebrity-designed headphones and an iPhone–to the more cumbersome, yet far slicker in their aesthetic products of the 90s, starting with XCX dressed as Steve Jobs sitting cross-legged with a blue iMac G3 on her lap, it was clear that the more gimmicky a device, the more tantalizing it was. While the same might be said for now, it’s more difficult to market as we’ve increasingly veered toward nothing but intangibility in the material world.
With each frame of the video, we are reminded just how much “useless shit” we were hawked by various corporations and their parent companies. In between posing as Left Eye in the middle of a liquefied T-Boz and Chili for “Waterfalls” (1995) and letting us try to believe that Sivan could ever lust after pussy as Rose in Titanic (1997), Charli also re-creates that unmistakable looQ of the Skechers ad that managed to finagle just about every relevant celebrity in the 90s to jump on the campaign (most memorably, Britney Spears, who strangely is not seen even remotely channeled anywhere in the video despite her famous lyric, “Hit me baby one more time,” being used liberally in the chorus).
Making ample use of a wig selection that could have been plucked from a series of Yandy costumes, XCX also appears as all five of the Spice Girls (clearly favoring Baby) in the “Say You’ll Be There” video, Mena Suvari a.k.a. Angela Hayes drowning in the rose petal wet dream from American Beauty (one of the few pop culture references actually from 1999) and Rose McGowan in her iconic body-bearing non-dress (just a year off from ’99 at the 1998 MTV VMAs)–along with Sivan in the “shock rock” getup worn by McGowan’s then boyfriend, Marilyn Manson.
Sivan holds his own occasionally as well in the form of recreating the videos for Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way” and Eminem’s “The Real Slim Shady” (released outside the confines of the decade in 2000). He also helps Charli set the world of The Sims (again, the first edition of which didn’t get released until early 2000) on fire (literally) as they dance in a burning kitchen before entering the world of The Matrix together (also the central focus of the single’s album artwork) before Sivan unfortunately and uncomfortably takes the reins for a moment as a bleach blonde ramen noodlehead Justin Timberlake at the height of his *NSYNC days.
Also squeezed in as blink and you’ll miss it moments are Charli starring in her own version of The Blair Witch Project and then opening her fridge (as the garden variety latchkey kid of the 90s had to in order to fend for herself in terms of an after school snack) to the sight of certain signature drinks of the time. It is through the minutiae that Charli further spotlights how much the 90s emphasized a stylized approach to alluring a youth demographic to buy things. Hanes in particular took the lead on targeting the 18-25 set (though that always means younger than) by ramping up the Hanes Her Way campaign (originally founded in ’86) in 1996, with an aesthetic that was, in essence, a commercialized form of grunge (ignoring the backing music, of course), knowing full well that women were the ones to fake celebrate if they wanted anyone to open their wallets.
And as more “year” songs come out (which they inevitably will as each passing one becomes more unbearable and a lust for the past reaches a fever pitch), “1999” will serve as the barometer for how best to manufacture a sentimental montage. The blueprint, one can’t deny, however, is Bowling for Soup’s “1985” (talk about an esoteric 00s instance of odious pop punk), who, for as shitty of a band as they were, managed to do the whole homage to a decade thing in the space of a single garage.
“1999” plays up our remaining propensities for emotionalism through, ironically, things (don’t get Jimmy Carter started). Because that’s what the American “heart” is swayed by, indoctrinated with retro capitalist views as it is. Except, in future cases, there will be far less material products to make us yearn for, being that we will soon be immaterial people living in an immaterial world (hence, the SOPHIE upgrade to the Madonna original). Accordingly, plays for nostalgia might have to get a lot more creative–especially since none of us are living a collective experience anymore (thanks Netflix, for making it impossible for everyone to be interested in the same show).
