Gen Z’s “2016 vibes” fixation is less about pastel Instagram filters and more about an economic and cultural shift: they are coming of age in a world where cheap Ubers, underpriced delivery, and a looser-feeling internet simply no longer exist. What looks like a lighthearted nostalgia trend is something more structural: a reaction to coming of age against the backdrop of a fully mature internet economy.
On TikTok and Instagram, “2016 vibes” has become a full-blown aesthetic, with POV clips, soundtracks of mid‑2010s hits, and filters that soften the present into a memory. Searches for “2016” on TikTok jumped more than 450% in the first week of January, and more than 1.6 million videos celebrating the year’s look and feel have been uploaded, according to creator‑economy newsletter After School by Casey Lewis. Lewis noted that only a few months ago, “millennial cringe” was rebranded as “millennial optimism,” with Gen Zers longing to experience a more carefree era. Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton, although it debuted in 2015, arguably has a 2016 vibe, for instance. Some millennial optimism is downright bewildering to Gen Z, such as what it calls the “stomp, clap, hey” genre of neo-folk pop music, recalling millennials’ own rediscovery (and new naming) of “yacht rock.”
Meanwhile, Google Trends reports that the search hit an all-time high in mid-January, with the top five trending “why is everyone…” searches all being related to 2016. The top two were “… posting 2016 pics” and “... talking about 2016.”
Creators caption posts “2026 is the new 2016” and stitch side‑by‑side footage of house parties, festivals, and mall hangs, inviting viewers to imagine a version of young adulthood that feels more spontaneous and frictionless. At the risk of being too self-referential, the difference can be tracked in Fortune covers, from the stampeding of the unicorns, the billion-dollar startup that defined the supposedly carefree days of 2016, to the bust a decade later and the dawn of the “unicorpse” era.
And while the comparison may feel ridiculous to anyone who actually lived through 2016 as an adult and can remember the stresses and anxieties of that particular time, there is something going on here, with economics at its core. In short, millennials were able to enjoy the peak of a particular Silicon Valley moment in 2016, but 10 years later, Gen Z is late to the party, finding the price of admission is just too high for them to get in the door.
Everyone used to love Silicon Valley
For millennials, 2016 marked a time when technology expanded opportunity rather than eliminating it. Venture capital was cheap, platforms were underpriced, and software functioned to your personal advantage, with aforementioned unicorns flush with cash and willing to offer millennials a crazy deal. The early iterations of the gig-economy ecosystem—Uber, Airbnb, TaskRabbit—were at their peak affordability, lowering the cost of living and making urban life feel frictionless. And at work, new digital tools helped young employees do more, faster, standing out from the pack.
For older millennials, 2016 evokes a very specific consumer reality: Ubers that were often cheaper than cabs and takeout that arrived in minutes for a few dollars in fees. Both were the product of what The New York Times‘ Kevin Roose labeled the “millennial lifestyle subsidy” in 2021, looking back on the era “from roughly 2012 through early 2020, when many of the daily activities of big-city 20- and 30-somethings were being quietly underwritten by Silicon Valley venture capitalists.” Because Uber and Seamless were not really turning a profit all those years while they gained market share, as on a grander scale Amazon and Netflix were underpriced for years before cornering the market on ecommerce and streaming, these subsidies “allowed us to live Balenciaga lifestyles on Banana Republic budgets,” as Roose put it.
Gen Z never really knew what it felt like to take a practically free late-night ride across town, or feast on $50 worth of Chinese takeout while paying half that. And they certainly never knew what it felt like to see unlimited movies in theaters each month, for the flat rate allowed by one MoviePass app. For the generation seeking the 2016 vibe, $40 surge‑priced trips and double‑digit delivery fees are standard, not a shocking new inconvenience, and the frictionless urban lifestyle of the millennial heyday, before they entered their 40s, had (a declining number of) kids, and fought their way into the suburban housing market amid the pandemic housing boom, reads more like historical fiction than a realistic blueprint.
Tech and digital culture was also just fun. Gen-Z remembers the heyday of Pokemon Go, the only app that somehow forced the youth outside and interacting with each other. Viral trends felt collective rather than segmented by algorithmic feeds. Back then, Vine jokes, Harambe memes, and Snapchat filters could sweep through timelines in a way that made the internet feel weirdly communal, even as politics darkened the horizon.
That helps explain why TheNew York Times‘ Madison Malone Kircher recently framed the new 2016 nostalgia as part of a broader reexamination of millennial optimism on social media. Celebrities like Kylie Jenner, Selena Gomez, and Karlie Kloss have joined in, uploading 2016 throwbacks that signal a desire to rewind to an era when influencer culture felt less high‑stakes and more experimental.
The moment tech stopped being fun
Then, something shifted. The attitude towards tech companies as nerdy but general do-gooders who “move fast and break things” for the sake of the world faded into a “techlash.” The Cambridge Analytica scandal rocked what was then called Meta and fueled panic around data privacy. Former tech insiders like Tristan Harris started popularizing the idea that the algorithms were addictive.
Thus, when Silicon Valley entered another boom cycle after the release of ChatGPT in 2022—producing a new generation of young, ambitious entrepreneurs and icons like Sam Altman and Elon Musk with a new breed of unicorns to go along with them—the moment was met with skepticism from Gen Z. Where millennials once found a quite literal free lunch, Gen Z increasingly sees threat.
The entry-level work that once functioned as a professional apprenticeship—research, synthesis, junior coding, coordination—is now being handled by autonomous systems. Companies are no longer hiring large cohorts of juniors to train up, often citing AI as the reason. Economists describe this as a “jobless expansion,” with data showing that the share of early-career employees at major tech firms has nearly halved since 2023. The result is a generation of so-called “digital natives” left to wonder whether the very skills they were told would future-proof them have instead been commoditized out of their reach.
Instead of innovation making technology feel communal and fun, as it did in 2016, generative AI has flooded platforms with low-quality content—what users now call “slop”—while raising alarms about addictive chatbots dispensing confident but dangerous advice to children. The promise of technology hasn’t vanished, but its emotional valence has flipped from something people used to get ahead to something they increasingly feel subjected to.
Gen Z’s view from the present
Commentators stress that this is largely a millennial‑led nostalgia wave—but Gen Z is the audience making it go massively viral. Many were children or young teens in 2016, old enough to remember the music and memes but too young to fully participate in the nightlife and freedom the year now symbolizes. For those now juggling college debt, precarious work, and a cost‑of‑living crisis, the grainy clips of suburban parking lots, festival wristbands, and crowded Ubers feel like evidence of a slightly easier universe that just slipped out of reach.
In that sense, “2016 vibes” is a way for Gen Z to process a basic unfairness: they inherited the platforms without the perks. Casey Lewis argues that, even if Gen Z may be driving this trend’s surge to prominence, even a new kind of monocultural moment, it’s by definition a “uniquely millennial trend,” part of an ongoing reexamination of what is emerging with time as a culture created by the millennial generation. Lewis argues that 2016 has an “economic” hold on the cultural imagination, representing “a version of modern life with many of today’s technological advancements but greater financial accessibility.”
Chris DeVille, managing editor of the (surviving millennial-era) music blog Stereogum, tracked a similar trajectory in his introspective cultural history of indie rock, released in August 2025. He documented, at times with lacerating self-criticism, how the underground musical genre grew out of Gen X’s alternative music scene of the 1990s and turned into something that openly embraced synthesizers, arena sing-alongs and countless sellouts to nationally broadcast car commercials.
And that may be what the “2016 vibes” trend represents more than anything: an acknowledgement that the internet is fully professionalized and corporatized now, and the search for something organic, indie, and authentic will have to take place somewhere else.
When it comes to creating irresistible storylines, Netflix, the home of Stranger Things and The Crown, is second to none. And as the streaming video giant delivered its quarterly earnings report on Tuesday, executives were in top storytelling form, pitching what they promise will be a smash hit: the acquisition of Warner Brothers Discovery.
The company’s co-CEOs, Ted Sarandos and Greg Peters, said the deal, which values Warner Brothers Discovery at $83 billion, will accelerate its own core streaming business while helping it expand into TV and the theatrical film business.
“This is an exciting time in the business. Lots of innovation, lots of competition,” Sarandos enthused on Tuesday’s earnings conference call. Netflix has a history of successful transformation and of pivoting opportunistically, he reminded the audience: Once upon a time, its main business entailed mailing DVDs in red envelopes to customers’ homes.
Despite Sarandos’ confident delivery, however, the pitch didn’t land with investors. The company’s stock, which was already down 15% since Netflix announced the deal in early December, sank another 4.9% in after-hours trading on Tuesday.
Netflix’s financial results for the final quarter of 2025 were fine. The company beat EPS expectations by a penny, and said it now has 325 million paid subscribers and a worldwide total audience nearing 1 billion. Its 2026 revenue outlook, of between $50.7 billion and $51.7 billion, was right on target.
Still, investors are worried that the Warner Bros. deal will force Netflix to compete outside its lane, causing management to lose focus. The fact that Netflix will temporarily halt its share buybacks in order to accumulate cash to help finance the deal, as it disclosed towards the bottom of Tuesday’s shareholder letter, probably didn’t help matters.
And given that there’s a rival offer for Warner Bros from Paramount Skydance, it’s not unreasonable for investors to worry that Netflix may be forced into an expensive bidding war. (Even though Warner Brothers Discovery has accepted the Netflix offer over Paramount’s, no one believes the story is over—not even Netflix, which updated its $27.75 per share offer to all-cash, instead of stock and cash, hours earlier on Tuesday in order to provide WBD shareholders with “greater value certainty.”)
Investors are wary; will regulators balk?
Warner Brothers investors are not the only audience that Netflix needs to win over. The deal must be blessed by antitrust regulators—a prospect whose outcome is harder to predict than ever in the Trump administration.
Sarandos and Peters laid out the case Tuesday for why they believe the deal will get through the regulatory process, framing the deal as a boon for American jobs.
“This is going to allow us to significantly expand our production capacity in the U.S. and to keep investing in original content in the long term, which means more opportunities for creative talent and more jobs,” Sarandos said.
Referring to Warner Brothers’ television and film businesses, he added that “these folks have extensive experience and expertise. We want them to stay on and run those businesses. We’re expanding content creation not collapsing it.”
It’s a compelling story. But the co-CEOs may have neglected to study the most important script of all when it comes to getting government approval in the current administration; they forgot to recite the Trump lines.
The example has been set over the past 12 months by peers such as Nvidia’s Jensen Huang and Meta’s Mark Zuckerberg. The latter, with his company facing various federal regulatory threats, began publicly praising the Trump administration on an earnings call last January.
And Nvidia’s Huang has already seen real dividends from a similar strategy. The chip company CEO has praised Trump repeatedly on earnings calls, in media interviews, and in conference keynote speeches, calling him “America’s unique advantage” in AI. Since then, the U.S. ban on selling Nvidia’s H200 AI chips to China has been rescinded. The praise may have been coincidental to the outcome, but it certainly didn’t hurt.
In contrast, the president went unmentioned on Tuesday’s call. How significant Netflix’s omission of a Trump call-out turns out to be remains to be seen; maybe it won’t matter at all. But it’s worth noting that its competitor for Warner Bros., Paramount Skydance, is helmed by David Ellison, an outspoken Trump supporter.
It’s a storyline that Netflix should have seen coming, and itmay still send the company back to rewrite.
After nearly a year of promises tariffs would boost the U.S. economy while other countries footed the bill, a new study shows almost all of the tariff burden is falling on American consumers.
Americans are paying 96% of the costs of tariffs as prices for goods rise, according to research published Monday by the Kiel Institute for the World Economy, a German think tank.
In April 2025 when President Donald Trump announced his “Liberation Day” tariffs, he claimed: “For decades, our country has been looted, pillaged, raped, and plundered by nations near and far, both friend and foe alike.” But the report suggests tariffs have actually cost Americans more money.
Trump has long used tariffs as leverage in non-trade political disputes. Over the weekend, Trump renewed his trade war in Europe after Denmark, Norway, Sweden, France, Germany, the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, and Finland sent troops for training exercises in Greenland. The countries will be hit with a 10% tariff starting on Feb. 1 that is set to rise to 25% on June 1, if a deal for the U.S. to buy Greenland is not reached.
On Monday, Trump threatened a 200% tariff on French wine, after French President Emmanuel Macron refused to join Trump’s “Board of Peace” for Gaza, which has a $1 billion buy-in for permanent membership.
“The claim that foreign countries pay these tariffs is a myth,” wrote Julian Hinz, research director at the Kiel Institute and an author of the study. “The data show the opposite: Americans are footing the bill.”
The research shows export prices stayed the same, but the volume has collapsed. After imposing a 50% tariff on India in August, exports to the U.S. dropped 18% to 24%, compared to the European Union, Canada, and Australia. Exporters are redirecting sales to other markets, so they don’t need to cut sales or prices, according to the study.
“There is no such thing as foreigners transferring wealth to the U.S. in the form of tariffs,” Hinz toldTheWall Street Journal.
For the study, Hinz and his team analyzed more than 25 million shipment records between January 2024 through November 2025 that were worth nearly $4 trillion.They found exporters absorbed just 4% of the tariff burden and American importers are largely passing on the costs to consumers.
Tariffs have increased customs revenue by $200 billion, but nearly all of that comes from American consumers. The study’s authors likened this to a consumption tax as wealth transfers from consumers and businesses to the U.S. Treasury.
Trump has also repeatedly claimed tariffs would boost American manufacturing, butthe economy has shown declines in manufacturing jobs every month since April 2025, losing 60,000 manufacturing jobs between Liberation Day and November.
The Supreme Court was expected to rule as soon as today on whether Trump’s use of emergency powers to levy tariffs under the International Emergency Economic Powers Act was legal. The court initially announced they planned to rule last week and gave no explanation for the delay.
Although justices appeared skeptical of the administration’s authority during oral arguments in November, economists predict the Trump administration will find alternative ways to keep the tariffs.
Investors are “selling America” in spades Tuesday: The 10-year Treasury yield is at its highest point since August; the U.S. dollar slid; and the traditional safe-haven metal investments—gold and silver—surged once again to record highs.
The CEO of UBS Group, the world’s largest private bank, thinks this market is making a “dangerous bet.”
“Diversifying away from America is impossible,” UBS Group CEO Sergio Ermotti told Bloomberg in a television interview at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, on Tuesday. “Things can change rapidly, and the U.S. is the strongest economy in the world, the one who has the highest level of innovation right now.”
The catalyst for the selloff was fresh escalation from U.S. President Donald Trump, who has threatened a 10% tariff on eight European allies—including Germany, France, and the U.K.—unless they cede to his demands to acquire Greenland.
Trump also threatened a 200% tariff on French wine and Champagne to pressure French President Emmanuel Macron to join his Board of Peace. Trump’s favorite “Mr. Tariff” is back, and bond investors are unhappy with the volatility.
But if investors keep getting caught up in the volatility of day-to-day politics and shun the U.S., they’ll miss the forest for the trees, Ermotti argued. While admitting the current environment is “bumpy,” he pointed to a statistic: Last year alone, the U.S. created 25 million new millionaires. For a wealth manager like UBS, that is 1,000 new millionaires a day. To shun that level of innovation in U.S. equities for gold would be a reactionary move that ignores the long-term innovation of the U.S. economy.
“We see two big levers: First of all, wealth creation, GDP growth, innovation, and also more idiosyncratic to UBS is that we see potential for us to become more present, increase our market share,” Ermotti said.
But if something doesn’t give in the standoff between the European Union and Trump, there could be potential further de-dollarization, this time, from Europe selling its U.S. bonds, George Saravelos, head of FX research at Deutsche Bank, wrote in a note Sunday. Indeed, on Tuesday, Danish pension funds sold $100 million in U.S. Treasuries, allegedly owing to “poor” U.S. finances, though the pension fund’s chief said of the debacle over Greenland: “Of course, that didn’t make it more difficult to take the decision.”
Europe owns twice as many U.S. bonds and equities as the rest of the world combined. If the rest of Europe follows Denmark’s lead, that could be an $8 trillion market at risk, Saravelos argued.
“In an environment where the geo-economic stability of the Western alliance is being disrupted existentially, it is not clear why Europeans would be as willing to play this part,” he wrote.
Back in the U.S., the markets also sold off as the Nasdaq and S&P both fell 2% Tuesday, already shedding the entirety of Greenland’s value on Trump’s threats, University of Michigan economist Justin Wolfers noted. Analysts and investors are uneasy, given the history of Trump declaring a stark tariff before negotiating with the country to take it down, also known as the “TACO”—Trump always chickens out—effect. Investors have been “burnt before by overreacting to tariff threats,” Jim Reid of Deutsche Banknoted. That’s a similar stance to the UBS bank chief: If you react too much to headlines, you’ll miss the great innovation that’s pushed the stock market to record highs for the past three years.
“I wouldn’t really bet against the U.S.,” he said.
Politics8 years ago