Dr. Nick’s Reflection: Time, Nostalgia, and That One Haircut I’ll Never Live Down
Dr. Nick’s Reflection: Time, Nostalgia, and That One Haircut I’ll Never Live Down
Lately, I’ve been doing something I swore I’d never become that person about:
Looking back at old photos and saying things like,
“Remember when…?”
“Oh my word…”
“Where are they now?”
And of course, the classic:
“Why did I think that haircut was okay?”
Friends… I am officially 46.
Middle-aged.
Smack-dab in the reflective but still funky chapter of life.
And lately? Nostalgia has been hitting me like a mixtape to the face.
It started with a box of old photos—yes, actual printed photos, from disposable cameras and those one-hour photo booths we all thought were magic. You’d take 24 pictures, hope at least 4 were usable, and accept the rest as blurry evidence of good times.
And as I flipped through those snapshots of high school, college, early 20s—I was in it.
I remembered the parties.
The awkward phases.
The people I haven’t talked to in decades.
Some are strangers now. Some I only see through life updates and baby announcements on social media.
Others have quietly faded from the story—and that’s okay.
But man… the memories?
They flood back with volume. And I mean that literally—because so did the hair.
THE HAIR.
We didn’t style it. We engineered it.
We curled. We teased. We gelled. We spiked.
Sometimes all at once.
And let’s not even start on the clothes.
High-waisted acid-wash jeans. Denim overalls. Hypercolor shirts that changed with body temperature (which, why?!).
Windbreakers so loud you could hear someone jogging three blocks away.
Then there are the moments—captured forever—of things you’d give anything to forget.
That one dance photo.
That one date where your shirt collar was questionable.
That one time you thought frosted tips made you look edgy.
Spoiler: They didn’t.
But beyond the fashion fails and the questionable style choices, there’s something deeper happening.
There’s time.
Moving. Shifting. Carrying us quietly into places we didn’t even realize we were heading.
One minute, you’re making friendship bracelets and trading cassette tapes.
The next, you're watching your peers send their kids off to college and talk about mortgage rates.
And what ties it all together?
The music.
Because the minute I hear that opening beat of a song from the 80s or 90s, I’m gone.
Fully transported.
Back to the backseat of my friend’s car.
Back to roller rinks and school dances.
Back to Saturday mornings with cartoons and Friday nights with mixtapes.
Music, more than anything, is a time machine.
These nostalgic moments—they’re not just about the past.
They’re a reminder that life is layered.
Messy. Beautiful. Cringe-worthy.
They remind us of where we’ve been… and how far we’ve come.
So yeah, I’m 46.
And I’m allowed to get a little misty-eyed when I look back.
I’m allowed to say “Remember when…”
I’m allowed to cringe at old photos and laugh at the disaster that was my hair in ‘92.
Because every phase, every embarrassing outfit, every off-key singalong to a Boyz II Men song—
It’s all part of the story.
And looking back?
That story’s a good one.
So pull out the old pictures.
Turn on the 90s playlist.
Reach out to someone you haven’t talked to in a while.
And if your old hairstyle comes back into trend… just know:
We were fashion-forward, not confused.
(Okay. Maybe a little confused.)
