ISSUE 01: NOSTALGIA • AUGUST, 2026

The Inescapably Warm Grip of Nostalgia

People are leaning into the past like never before.
Are you missing out by not listening in?

Hello there friend!

So I’ve been noticing something lately – you probably have too.

Nostalgia has become almost impossible to escape lately.

Film cameras. Wired headphones. Records. Old cars. Vintage clothes. Print magazines. Wood-paneled listening rooms. Restaurants that look like they haven't been renovated since 1987 — intentionally.

Even brands seem increasingly interested in reminding us of things we already know rather than introducing us to something new.

I don't think it's because we've suddenly run out of ideas.
I think we're tired of newness.

There is something comforting about reaching for an object, sound, place, or feeling that existed before everything became quite so fast. Familiar things don't ask much of us. We already know how they make us feel.

I've spent a lot of my career thinking about this professionally — how familiarity, shared experiences, communities, and collective memory can create an almost immediate connection between people.

But if I'm being fair, I've probably been practicing it personally for much longer.
I absolutely adore old things.

Stephen Vallera, Ohio Breakfast

Old cars (ohhhh, old cars). They smell like gasoline. The steering is more forgiving. The mirrors are, well, mirrors – not computer screens that look like mirrors. They have a key… ya know, that you turn.

Vintage guitars don't play perfectly. That's part of why I like them. Every one has its own strange little personality — a neck that's been worn smooth, a pickup that sounds slightly different, a finish that's been knocked around by someone who owned it long before you did.

Rangefinder cameras aren't particularly interested in helping you take the perfect photograph either. You focus them yourself. You miss sometimes. Things end up slightly crooked or soft.

And somehow those are often the photographs I like most.
Maybe that's why I hesitate to call the things around me a collection.
They're less like trophies and more like creative accomplices.
They slow things down just enough.

And I'm starting to think that's what we're collectively looking for.

As technology gets faster, smoother, smarter, and increasingly invisible, we're developing a strange appetite for things with fingerprints on them.

Things that click.
Things that scratch.
Things that age.
Things that require a little patience.

Which makes me wonder if nostalgia isn't really about wanting the past back at all.
Maybe it's about wanting some of the feelings we accidentally left there.

Listening to an album… no skips.
Driving somewhere without knowing exactly how long it'll take.
Finding something instead of having it recommended to you.
Sitting somewhere without proving you were there with a photograph.

This doesn’t mean the old way was necessarily better. And I certainly don't want to give up Google Maps… at least not cold turkey. But perhaps progress doesn't require us to discard everything that came before it.

The interesting thing about looking backward is realizing what might still be worth bringing with us.

At the end of the day, it feels nice to put on a record, hear the needle drop, close your eyes, surrender to the sound, and wait for Side A to be done.

The real question is whether you back up and flip to the B-side right away,
or enjoy the silence just a little while longer.

Stuff for Doing Nothing

Nothing Vibe
of The Week

~ Until Next Time ~

✌🏽🌞