Bacchus MindEconomy Chronicle

The 1980s were famously defined by Gordon Gekko’s immortal line in the 1987 movie Wall Steet: “Greed is good.” Finance bros, leveraged buyouts, and the yuppie lifestyle came to represent the era’s unapologetic worship of wealth. Today, the same ethos persists- except it’s wrapped in pastel hues, designer logos, and TikTok-ready “Get Ready With Me” videos filmed from luxury Airbnbs. We live in a time of unprecedented inequality, and yet wealth is more visible and performative than ever. The “old money aesthetic” championed online through linen blazers, boat shoes, and grainy filters- romanticizes generational wealth with a wistful longing. Yet it’s not just about style; it’s about perceived access, aspirational class signalling, and curated mystique.

In a sense, we’re embracing a kind of faux-aristocracy with the accessibility of fast fashion and filters, even as real wealth gaps grow. Much like the 80s, today’s economy rewards the few and entertains the rest. However, unlike then, today’s elite are expected to be aesthetically tasteful and socially aware. In our current cultural climate- where digital nostalgia is stylized and sold back to us in mood boards, filters, and brand collaborations, and where wealth is no longer just accumulated but curated for public consumption- it’s worth asking: are we living in a hyper-speed remake of the 1980s?

However, this isn’t a simple rerun. Across the axes of money, fashion, and class politics, it increasingly feels like we’re not just revisiting the 80s- we’re remixing and accelerating them. The symbols are familiar: conspicuous consumption, sharp social divides, high-gloss aspiration paired with undercurrents of political discontent. Yet everything moves faster, lands louder, and spreads wider. What took years to emerge as subcultures or movements in the 80s now unfolds in weeks through viral trends, influencer campaigns, and aesthetic ideologies.

What we’re living through is less a return to a past era and more a digitally enhanced simulation of its most iconic contradictions: style without substance, protest entangled with performance, and a culture constantly flipping between irony and sincerity. The question isn’t just whether history repeats itself- but whether we’ve created an environment where it loops, stylized, commodified, and sped up for the algorithmic age.

Money: The Age of Excess, Again

The 1980s were defined by brash capitalism. In the U.S. and the UK, deregulation and financial speculation drove extreme wealth, which in turn reflected in the era’s obsession with luxury. Today, we’re seeing a return to that spectacle- only this time, wealth is more digital, more aestheticized, and more visible than ever. Enter the “old money aesthetic,” a visual language of generational wealth that’s proliferated across Instagram and TikTok. Think tennis skirts, yachts, butter-soft cashmere, and boarding school chic. It’s a fantasy of inherited elegance- yet in reality, it’s rarely about wealth itself, and more about the appearance of taste, timelessness, and class. In a global landscape where inequality is stark, the tension between real wealth and performative affluence is once again rising. Like the 80s, today’s economy rewards the few and entertains the rest. Now we simply do it with ring lights and influencer partnerships.

Fashion: Irony Meets Aspiration

Fashion has gone full circle- again. The logos, silhouettes, and glam of the 80s are back, but they’ve returned with a layer of irony and postmodern self-awareness. “Camp” is currency. So is nostalgia. Yet the deeper shift is how fashion functions today: it’s less about clothing, more about signaling. A “quiet luxury” outfit says something different than a maximalist vintage Adidas jacket- but both tap into the same cycle of style as aspiration. Like in the 80s, we wear our class on our sleeves. But now, the context is faster, more performative, more fluid.

Class Politics: Champagne Socialism and the Politics of Purity

The 80s had its contradictions—Wall Street elites who flirted with environmentalism, celebrities who dabbled in activism. Today, we have our own version: the digitally savvy elite who post about injustice while sipping “organic” wine on rooftop bars. It’s a vibe that’s often mocked as champagne socialism. Layered over this is the politics of purity. In activist and online spaces alike, the demand for consistency and moral clarity can be intense- even when it clashes with the complexity of real life. Yet this purity often turns into a performance itself, especially when we are encouraged to curate our values for public consumption. The irony is: many of us consciously accept this yet still participate. Why?  The alternative -opting out- is a kind of invisibility most aren’t willing to accept.

South Africa: The 80s Never Really Left

In South Africa, these dynamics are not just theoretical- they are lived and layered over a very specific historical context. The 1980s here were a time of deep struggle, violent inequality, and the build-up to political transformation. Today, nearly three decades post-apartheid, the echoes are haunting. We have our own version of the “old money aesthetic”- only here, it’s sometimes actual old money: dynasties that have compounded wealth since the days of apartheid. Meanwhile, a new elite has emerged (political, corporate, cultural) crafting its identity in the language of international luxury. Think high-end Sandton, Cape Town villas, and curated township-to-boardroom origin stories.

Fashion, too, speaks a particular dialect. The rise of local designers and streetwear labels like Rich Mnisi, Thebe Magugu, or MaXhosa blends global trend cycles with African heritage, proving that fashion here isn’t just about nostalgia or aspiration—it’s about authorship and presence. However, even then, access is limited. The aesthetics of wealth remain more available than the wealth itself.

When it comes to class politics, South Africa’s contradictions are sharper. One can’t ignore the symbolism of influencers posting fashion content in luxury hotels while, just outside, millions grapple with unemployment, food insecurity, and generational poverty. Or of political elites condemning inequality while dining at high-end establishments. We are a country where the gap between performance and lived reality isn’t just visible- it’s often violent.

So what are we aspiring to? What are we trying to say with our clothes, our captions, our curated lives? The truth is, South Africans are deeply aspirational- but also deeply sceptical. There is a growing appetite for honesty- for naming the things we want, the contradictions we live, and the systems we navigate.

We may be living in an accelerated version of the 80s- on a global and local scale- but with sharper contradictions, faster cycles, and higher stakes. The old templates of wealth, fashion, and class still linger, but we wear them with new anxieties, new technologies, and new complexities.

Maybe, in a world of aesthetic re-runs, the rarest currency is honesty.