There’s something deeply ironic about watching a generation that grew up with smartphones willingly downgrade to flip phones. But here we are in 2026, and retro tech isn’t just having a moment, it’s having an entire cultural renaissance.
Walk into any Kmart or JB Hi-Fi and you’ll spot them: digital cameras from the early 2000s, reissued Walkmans, and those chunky Nintendo Game & Watch handhelds that look like they time-traveled from 1985. The kids are buying them. And not ironically, either.
I’ll admit, I’m part of the problem. I’ve got a drawer full of retro handhelds that I absolutely did not need but absolutely had to own. There’s something about that plastic build quality and slightly crunchy audio that just hits differently than opening Spotify on the same device I use to check my emails and scroll through increasingly unhinged LinkedIn posts.
The Appeal Of Doing One Thing At A Time
Here’s the thing about modern tech: it’s relentlessly good at everything. Your phone can take professional-quality photos, stream any song ever recorded, run your entire business, and also remind you that you’re supposed to drink water. It’s exhausting.
Retro tech offers something radical in 2026: the ability to do one thing without eighteen notifications trying to drag you elsewhere. Want to listen to music? That’s all your Walkman does. Want to take photos? Your point-and-shoot camera won’t suddenly interrupt you with a reminder about your mate’s birthday.
There’s a simplicity to these devices that feels almost luxurious now. They’re technology that knows its lane and stays in it.
The Aesthetic Economy
Let’s not pretend this is purely about functionality. Half the appeal is how these things look on your shelf or in your carefully curated Instagram photo (yes, I see the irony).
The Y2K aesthetic has been having a moment for a while now, but it’s evolved beyond just fashion. Those translucent iMac colours, the chunky industrial design of late 90s Sony gear, even the specific shade of beige that old computers came in, it’s all become cool again.
I reckon there’s something comforting about physical objects that look like they were designed by humans rather than algorithm-optimized into the most aerodynamic, minimal shape possible. Give me visible screws and actual buttons over another identical black rectangle any day.
When New Tech Feels Old
There’s also a weird phenomenon happening where cutting-edge technology is starting to feel more dated than the stuff it replaced.
Streaming services keep removing content, changing interfaces, and hiking prices. Digital games disappear when servers shut down. Your smart home devices stop working when the company decides they’d rather you buy the new model.
Meanwhile, that Game Boy cartridge from 1989? Still works. That CD you bought in 2003? Still plays. There’s something reassuring about owning technology that isn’t dependent on a subscription service or an internet connection to function.
I’m not saying we should all ditch our smartphones and go live in the woods (I like Google Maps too much), but there’s value in having some tech that you actually own rather than just license access to.
The Nostalgia Factor
Obviously we need to talk about nostalgia, because it’s doing a lot of heavy lifting here.
For millennials, retro tech represents actual childhood memories: the Discman they saved up their pocket money for, the digital camera they took on their first overseas trip, the iPod that got them through high school. There’s genuine emotional connection there.
For Gen Z, it’s more complicated. They’re nostalgic for a time they didn’t actually experience, which is its own kind of fascinating. These devices represent a simpler era of technology, before everything got connected and complicated and started collecting your data to sell you things you don’t need.
Either way, there’s clearly something appealing about technology that existed before the internet made everything into content.
The Market Responds
Companies aren’t stupid. They’ve noticed people dropping serious money on eBay for decades-old electronics, and they’re responding accordingly.
Nintendo keeps reissuing their classic consoles. Polaroid and Fujifilm are making bank on instant cameras. Even Spotify released a physical music player, which feels like the universe’s idea of a joke but apparently sold well enough.
The secondhand market is wild too. Good luck finding an original iPod Classic for less than a couple hundred dollars. Those chunky Sony Cybershot cameras are going for more now than they cost new in 2005. It’s created this whole ecosystem of refurbishers, collectors, and people who’ve turned “buying broken electronics on Facebook Marketplace and fixing them” into a viable side hustle.
Is It Actually Better?
Here’s where I’m supposed to tell you whether retro tech is objectively superior to modern alternatives, and the answer is: obviously not.
Your smartphone camera is better than any point-and-shoot from 2004. Spotify is more convenient than any physical media player. Modern gaming handhelds can emulate everything the originals could do and more.
But that’s kind of missing the point. People aren’t buying these things because they’re better. They’re buying them because they’re different, because they’re fun, because they represent a relationship with technology that feels less demanding and more intentional.
I’m not about to suggest everyone throw out their iPhones and switch to a Nokia 3310 (though some people are genuinely doing this, which is a whole other article). But there’s something healthy about occasionally using technology that doesn’t want anything from you except maybe some AA batteries.
Where This Goes Next
The retro tech trend shows no signs of slowing down, which raises questions about what happens when Gen Alpha starts feeling nostalgic. Are we going to see a fidget spinner renaissance in 2035? Will TikTok become retro? I genuinely don’t know and I’m not sure I want to find out.
What I do know is that this whole movement says something interesting about our relationship with technology. We’re not rejecting modern tech, we’re just craving balance. We want devices that do specific things well rather than everything poorly. We want to own our stuff rather than rent access to it. We want technology that enhances our lives without demanding our constant attention.
And sometimes, we just want to play Tetris on something that looks like a calculator, because that’s objectively more fun than playing it on a device that’s simultaneously trying to sell us stuff and show us what our high school acquaintances had for lunch.
There’s probably a lesson in there somewhere about simplicity and intentionality and not optimizing every aspect of our lives to death. But honestly, I just think the old tech looks cool and makes satisfying clicking noises.
And in 2026, that’s reason enough.
