By Simon Crane
I was 21 in 1994 and looking back now, I don’t think it’s just nostalgia to say this. The Britain of the 1990s, flawed as it was, may well have been the last time the country properly worked for ordinary people. Not perfectly, but recognisably.
Start with the basics. You could afford to live.
Most of us weren’t well off, but we weren’t locked out either. A normal job gave you a shot. Renting didn’t eat everything you earned, and buying a house or flat was the inevitable next thing you did after buying a car. Life wasn’t constantly boxed in by what you couldn’t afford.
My peers and I all knew, we knew there was no question of it that we would drive at seventeen, be buying our first property by twenty five and be in a long term relationship/ married and having kids by thirty
That matters more than people admit. When housing is manageable, people think longer term. They take chances, start things, and build something of their own. Now it feels like everything is short term, just getting through. Back then, there was still room to breathe.
And that space gave you culture that actually belonged to people.
You didn’t get it fed to you. You found it. In pubs, clubs, through mates. When bands like Oasis or Blur broke through, they felt like they came from somewhere real, not designed in a boardroom.
It also felt unapologetically British. You saw it at UEFA Euro 1996, flags out, everyone ( in England) behind the team, no one overthinking it. You saw it when Geri Halliwell wore the Union Jack dress and it just took off. No strategy, no messaging, it just happened. That kind of confidence is hard to fake.
In a way, the 90s were a reaction to what came before and what came after.
The 80s had energy, but a lot of it was glossy and over the top. Heroes were bigger than life. People like Hulk Hogan or Sylvester Stallone, all muscles and certainty. Even wrestling played along with it, asking you to believe, however daft it could be.
That shift didn’t just happen in wrestling; it crept into everything.
In the 90s, things felt rougher around the edges. Anti heroes took over. You saw it with Stone Cold Steve Austin, the films of Quentin Tarantino and the grunge look and feel. Less polish, more attitude. It felt closer to real life.
Then the 2000s came and the gloss came back, only this time it felt manufactured.
Shows like The X Factor didn’t even pretend. Music turned into a conveyor belt. Acts built, sold, replaced, all out in the open. At least it was honest.
Now it’s different again. Still manufactured, but dressed up as real. Algorithm driven, endless, and somehow thinner for it. In the 90s, you knew where things came from. That mattered.
So did the fact that not everything was political.
People disagreed, but it didn’t take over everything. You could go out, say something daft, make a fool of yourself, and that was the end of it. It didn’t follow you around. You felt like things were moving somewhere. That kind of freedom has gone, or at least it feels like it has.
And there was still a shared culture. People watched the same things, talked about the same moments. There was a middle ground. Not perfect, but enough to hold things together.
Now everything is split off. Everyone in their own lane. In some ways that’s fine. In others, you start to wonder what’s actually shared anymore.
So no, the 1990s weren’t perfect.
But they might have been the last time Britain got the balance anything like right.
You could afford to live. Culture felt real. The country had a bit of confidence about it. And people were freer in the ways that matter day to day.
When people say the 90s were better, they’re not saying everything was rosy.
They’re saying it worked.
And if you were there at the time, that’s hard to argue with.
