by Samantha Evans
They say that one is fun but two is twice as nice. Wait, who says that? While conducting much needed research for this article (yes, we writers do research from time to time), I Googled “twice as nice” and was amused to see what dominated: wedding planners, consignment stores and a parents’ guide to purchasing strollers. By this token, one would assume that divorce, vintage clothing and birthing twins were all the rage for the upcoming year. But it made me wonder, why are we in such a rush to bypass our original experiences in order to clear room for the sequels, remakes and recycled versions of our own lives? When digital cameras allow us to recapture moments over and over to our liking, I can’t help but think that we may be deleting the best parts of all…

Last week, my dearly beloved yet slightly outdated cell phone plummeted to its watery grave (in a toilet at The Social, if you must know). It was a tad clunky and ate up a lot of prime real estate in my Coach wristlet. Put less kindly: she had a lot of junk in her trunk. While I do enjoy the sleeker upgrade, part of me is mildly distressed with how simple it is to discard a once treasured object. To this day, I mourn the loss of Rocky, my childhood stuffed raccoon which can never be supplanted by the tacky pink teddy bears you find in stores today. Mock me if you will, but I long for the original “Beverly Hills 90210”; for when Volkswagen Rabbits were cool and not in that ironic kind of way (see “Can’t Buy Me Love” for further detail), when “call me” meant call, not send a drunk text. I may not have been able to spell my own name when some of these were in their prime, but I am now both wise and jaded enough to say that Shenae Grimes is no Brenda Walsh and texting is not romantic! In an increasingly Abercrombied world, I find myself attracted to life’s outdated software: asymmetrical smiles, cameras with film, handwritten letters. Give me ‘Where in the World is Carmen San Diego?’ on an Ameba computer any day.

Nothing beats that first electrifying kiss rolling in your friend’s backyard, gazing at the stars, although stumbling across vintage Chanel in your grandma’s closet comes close. However, I am not completely delusional; I have learned to embrace the new, sometimes I even ask it out for a drink. It is a sign of maturity, I suppose, to accept the new when you still crave the old. But from time to time, I still wonder where Rocky may be… Maybe I’m just a 1.0 version kind of gal.