Being a Gen Xer is my affliction. Is Gen Z's enthusiasm curing me? Hmm, maybe
Imbibing Douglas Coupland's seminal novel Generation X, reading The Face magazine and watching Richard Linklater's 1991 cult classic Slacker, the high priests and priestesses of Gen X seemed so far removed from my own droopy teen dagdom, the idea that I could count myself among their number was laughable. It was not until my mid-30s that the penny finally dropped.
This may be the most inadvertently Gen X thing I've ever done: not bothering to learn what generation I'm a part of. That's slack. If Gen X suffered from one malady, it was self-consciousness, with a secondary diagnosis of apathy. These are not useful traits to be holding on to in 2025, when the chaos enveloping the globe demands more than a shrug of the shoulders and contemptuously raised eyebrow.
To pinpoint the moment when the rehabilitation of my jaded Gen X heart began, let's rewind to June 2023. I'm surrounded by open browsers, but I'm not trying to prevent an unauthorised nuclear missile launch. It's much more important than that: I'm trying to secure tickets to the Melbourne leg of Taylor Swift's Eras tour. The stakes are stratospheric. My oldest daughter is what you might call (if you were given to understatement) a Swiftie, but better understood as someone whose obsession warrants its own Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders entry. Her moods rise and fall based on Swift's musical output; she confessed recently her low spirits were not the result of VCE pressures, but Swift's extended break after her tour.
Floating on a sea of browsers, conscious of the maelstrom of emotions that will be unleashed should she miss out, I begin to understand that this is not just another domestic chore, like arranging dental appointments and parent-teacher interviews. To secure tickets, I must believe in the mission itself. I must buy into not only the Swift phenomena, but the unbridled enthusiasm of Gen Z. Could I become less Gen-X'y?
This is no small undertaking: my Gen X snobbery is as much a part of me as the legs I walk on, and as reflexively deployed, a billowing smokestack of uppity disdain for mainstream culture that can be seen from outer space, like the Pyramids of Giza.
There was no one less prepared than me to raise a Swiftie. A child who worships stadium-filling pop stars, rides the wave of each new viral trend without shame (her bedroom is currently filling with Labubu dolls), and doesn't take sincere displays of emotion to be a measure of deep uncoolness; who doesn't pretend not to care when really, she cares a lot. An earnest student of teen girldom, she manages her insecurities not by affecting an air of nonchalance, but by being the most fully actualised, CinemaScope version of a teenage girl she can be. Her music, her clothes and her make-up are not a studied rejection of mainstream aesthetics, as mine were, but a bear-hug of what she loves. Gen Z may carry many anxieties and burdens, but appearing unmoved by everything is not one of them.
In my experience, ambivalence – about work, relationships, our very existence – was the sine qua non of Gen X. Don't try too hard. Don't let anyone know how much you want it – professional success, or love or money. Affect an air of affectlessness. Earnestness and sincerity were anathema. Our self-conscious ambivalence is perhaps best exemplified in a 1991 TV interview with Kim Gordon, of Sonic Youth. She has just produced a record, and the purpose of the interview is to talk about her experience of producing a record. 'Is producing something you do a lot of?' the interviewer asks. 'Oh yeah' replies Gordon, her voice dripping with sarcasm, eyes shaded by large black sunglasses. 'I try to do it at least once a week.' She has the air of someone who's been on the phone with Telstra all day, trying to fix a billing error. God forbid she should answer the question sincerely, or cop to enjoying what she does. This was the attitude I was marinated and cooked in.
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Sydney Morning Herald
a day ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Being a Gen Xer is my affliction. Is Gen Z's enthusiasm curing me? Hmm, maybe
Were I to find myself held captive by alien anthropologists, keen to learn more about my generation, Generation X, I would tell them that we were so wry, cynical and intimidating during the 1990s – the peak of our cultural dominance – I didn't even know I was one. Imbibing Douglas Coupland's seminal novel Generation X, reading The Face magazine and watching Richard Linklater's 1991 cult classic Slacker, the high priests and priestesses of Gen X seemed so far removed from my own droopy teen dagdom, the idea that I could count myself among their number was laughable. It was not until my mid-30s that the penny finally dropped. This may be the most inadvertently Gen X thing I've ever done: not bothering to learn what generation I'm a part of. That's slack. If Gen X suffered from one malady, it was self-consciousness, with a secondary diagnosis of apathy. These are not useful traits to be holding on to in 2025, when the chaos enveloping the globe demands more than a shrug of the shoulders and contemptuously raised eyebrow. To pinpoint the moment when the rehabilitation of my jaded Gen X heart began, let's rewind to June 2023. I'm surrounded by open browsers, but I'm not trying to prevent an unauthorised nuclear missile launch. It's much more important than that: I'm trying to secure tickets to the Melbourne leg of Taylor Swift's Eras tour. The stakes are stratospheric. My oldest daughter is what you might call (if you were given to understatement) a Swiftie, but better understood as someone whose obsession warrants its own Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders entry. Her moods rise and fall based on Swift's musical output; she confessed recently her low spirits were not the result of VCE pressures, but Swift's extended break after her tour. Floating on a sea of browsers, conscious of the maelstrom of emotions that will be unleashed should she miss out, I begin to understand that this is not just another domestic chore, like arranging dental appointments and parent-teacher interviews. To secure tickets, I must believe in the mission itself. I must buy into not only the Swift phenomena, but the unbridled enthusiasm of Gen Z. Could I become less Gen-X'y? This is no small undertaking: my Gen X snobbery is as much a part of me as the legs I walk on, and as reflexively deployed, a billowing smokestack of uppity disdain for mainstream culture that can be seen from outer space, like the Pyramids of Giza. There was no one less prepared than me to raise a Swiftie. A child who worships stadium-filling pop stars, rides the wave of each new viral trend without shame (her bedroom is currently filling with Labubu dolls), and doesn't take sincere displays of emotion to be a measure of deep uncoolness; who doesn't pretend not to care when really, she cares a lot. An earnest student of teen girldom, she manages her insecurities not by affecting an air of nonchalance, but by being the most fully actualised, CinemaScope version of a teenage girl she can be. Her music, her clothes and her make-up are not a studied rejection of mainstream aesthetics, as mine were, but a bear-hug of what she loves. Gen Z may carry many anxieties and burdens, but appearing unmoved by everything is not one of them. In my experience, ambivalence – about work, relationships, our very existence – was the sine qua non of Gen X. Don't try too hard. Don't let anyone know how much you want it – professional success, or love or money. Affect an air of affectlessness. Earnestness and sincerity were anathema. Our self-conscious ambivalence is perhaps best exemplified in a 1991 TV interview with Kim Gordon, of Sonic Youth. She has just produced a record, and the purpose of the interview is to talk about her experience of producing a record. 'Is producing something you do a lot of?' the interviewer asks. 'Oh yeah' replies Gordon, her voice dripping with sarcasm, eyes shaded by large black sunglasses. 'I try to do it at least once a week.' She has the air of someone who's been on the phone with Telstra all day, trying to fix a billing error. God forbid she should answer the question sincerely, or cop to enjoying what she does. This was the attitude I was marinated and cooked in.
The Age
a day ago
- The Age
Being a Gen Xer is my affliction. Is Gen Z's enthusiasm curing me? Hmm, maybe
Were I to find myself held captive by alien anthropologists, keen to learn more about my generation, Generation X, I would tell them that we were so wry, cynical and intimidating during the 1990s – the peak of our cultural dominance – I didn't even know I was one. Imbibing Douglas Coupland's seminal novel Generation X, reading The Face magazine and watching Richard Linklater's 1991 cult classic Slacker, the high priests and priestesses of Gen X seemed so far removed from my own droopy teen dagdom, the idea that I could count myself among their number was laughable. It was not until my mid-30s that the penny finally dropped. This may be the most inadvertently Gen X thing I've ever done: not bothering to learn what generation I'm a part of. That's slack. If Gen X suffered from one malady, it was self-consciousness, with a secondary diagnosis of apathy. These are not useful traits to be holding on to in 2025, when the chaos enveloping the globe demands more than a shrug of the shoulders and contemptuously raised eyebrow. To pinpoint the moment when the rehabilitation of my jaded Gen X heart began, let's rewind to June 2023. I'm surrounded by open browsers, but I'm not trying to prevent an unauthorised nuclear missile launch. It's much more important than that: I'm trying to secure tickets to the Melbourne leg of Taylor Swift's Eras tour. The stakes are stratospheric. My oldest daughter is what you might call (if you were given to understatement) a Swiftie, but better understood as someone whose obsession warrants its own Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders entry. Her moods rise and fall based on Swift's musical output; she confessed recently her low spirits were not the result of VCE pressures, but Swift's extended break after her tour. Floating on a sea of browsers, conscious of the maelstrom of emotions that will be unleashed should she miss out, I begin to understand that this is not just another domestic chore, like arranging dental appointments and parent-teacher interviews. To secure tickets, I must believe in the mission itself. I must buy into not only the Swift phenomena, but the unbridled enthusiasm of Gen Z. Could I become less Gen-X'y? This is no small undertaking: my Gen X snobbery is as much a part of me as the legs I walk on, and as reflexively deployed, a billowing smokestack of uppity disdain for mainstream culture that can be seen from outer space, like the Pyramids of Giza. There was no one less prepared than me to raise a Swiftie. A child who worships stadium-filling pop stars, rides the wave of each new viral trend without shame (her bedroom is currently filling with Labubu dolls), and doesn't take sincere displays of emotion to be a measure of deep uncoolness; who doesn't pretend not to care when really, she cares a lot. An earnest student of teen girldom, she manages her insecurities not by affecting an air of nonchalance, but by being the most fully actualised, CinemaScope version of a teenage girl she can be. Her music, her clothes and her make-up are not a studied rejection of mainstream aesthetics, as mine were, but a bear-hug of what she loves. Gen Z may carry many anxieties and burdens, but appearing unmoved by everything is not one of them. In my experience, ambivalence – about work, relationships, our very existence – was the sine qua non of Gen X. Don't try too hard. Don't let anyone know how much you want it – professional success, or love or money. Affect an air of affectlessness. Earnestness and sincerity were anathema. Our self-conscious ambivalence is perhaps best exemplified in a 1991 TV interview with Kim Gordon, of Sonic Youth. She has just produced a record, and the purpose of the interview is to talk about her experience of producing a record. 'Is producing something you do a lot of?' the interviewer asks. 'Oh yeah' replies Gordon, her voice dripping with sarcasm, eyes shaded by large black sunglasses. 'I try to do it at least once a week.' She has the air of someone who's been on the phone with Telstra all day, trying to fix a billing error. God forbid she should answer the question sincerely, or cop to enjoying what she does. This was the attitude I was marinated and cooked in.
Sydney Morning Herald
25-07-2025
- Sydney Morning Herald
Tattoos may no longer be forever, but removing them is no picnic
Claire Coulstock, a lecturer in dermal science at Victoria University, says while tattoo removal technology has become more sophisticated, 'there are still limitations. Especially with certain skin types that are more naturally pigmented'. Limitations in wavelengths also mean that not all tattoos – particularly those with thicker lines – can be entirely eliminated. Other factors, including a tattoo's age and colours used, affect how long it takes to remove ink, but it can take anywhere from three to 20 sessions, and several years, for one tattoo to fade completely. 'Not just the ex's name' Kelly Swift, owner of Swift Tattoo Removal in Melbourne, has been working in the industry for more than a decade. During this time, she's witnessed the increasing popularity of tattoo removal, which she says has risen in lockstep with the growing ubiquity of tattoos. Loading In 2023, 30 per cent of Australians had tattoos, compared with 20 per cent in 2018, while about one in four people expressed regret over a tattoo, with almost half of that cohort going on to have one removed or camouflaged. Swift says clients' motivations for tattoo removal vary, but more people are opting for removal when they find a tattoo no longer aligns with their aesthetic, rather than removing a tattoo that may prohibit employment opportunities or that are tied to a bad memory. 'It's not so much the ex's name any more. People just want a new style,' she says. Jess Buxton, owner of Buxton Tattoo Removal in Sydney's inner west, says evolving trends are key drivers of business. 'In the '90s, heavy tribal tattoos were on trend. A lot of people are removing those now. A lot of cultural appropriation stuff as well, like Polynesian sleeves, with people not realising that they mean things.' Her clinic, which is housed inside a tattoo studio like Swift's, also helps clients fade tattoos to then be covered over. 'In the '90s, heavy tribal tattoos were on trend. A lot of people are removing those now.' Jess Buxton, owner of Buxton Tattoo Removal in Sydney Swift thinks the practice's increased accessibility may also have made people more lax about getting a tattoo in the first place. 'I get messages from people the day after they get their tattoo, and they're like, 'I made a mistake',' she says. Swift highlights the tattoo removal process can be time-intensive and expensive. Jason Erwin, Australian director of operations for global tattoo removal chain Removery, sees the procedure's rising popularity as part of the rise in cosmetic treatments. 'It's normalising it as part of any beauty treatment,' he says. 'Laser hair removal has been on the market for a good 20 years, and tattoo removal has only been on the market for around nine years. 'We've really seen an exponential increase in treatments, over the past three years in particular.' He agrees that laser tattoo removal can be a long process. Many prospective clients – particularly those hoping to erase an ex's name or remove a tattoo before a wedding – expect fast results. 'It's not a quick, easy fix,' he says. Life changing But while more people are opting to erase ink that simply doesn't suit them any more, for some, removing a tattoo can be genuinely life changing. Loading In 2019, Amanda McKinnon founded Fresh Start, a program that offers free tattoo removal to those who aren't able to access or pay for it. Eligibility criteria include survivors of domestic violence or immigration detention who may have been forcibly tattooed, those recently released from incarceration looking for a fresh start, ex-gang or bikie members and those with offensive or hyper-visible tattoos. 'I had a number of clients who disclosed fairly traumatic circumstances around why they got the tattoo, but it was just unachievable for them to access tattoo removal because of the pricing,' says McKinnon, who has been working in the industry for more than a decade through her practice LaserTat in Adelaide. One of the first of its kind in Australia, McKinnon's studio last year partnered with tattoo removal studios in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane and Perth to deliver the program nationwide. An unregulated industry There is no national regulatory framework to oversee tattoo removal operators in Australia, with regulations varying state by state. Tattoo removal operators in Queensland, for example, require a licence to practice, whereas those in NSW and Victoria do not. 'Anyone can buy a machine online and start messing people up,' says Swift, who advises people to choose a clinic using medical grade machines, with good 'before and after' photos, and to avoid those who promise results in a short period of time.
