Late last night, just before midnight, a reporter reached out asking for my take on the 2016 trend. I was still easing back into work after three weeks away, half in reflection mode, half catching up, and something about the question stuck with me.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized this trend isn’t as simple as nostalgia. It’s saying something about how people are feeling right now.

I shared my response with her, and I wanted to share more with you too. I’m just as curious where it lands for you.

Here’s my take.

2016 isn’t trending only because of nostalgia. While we’re seeing a broader shift toward analogue living being offline, paperback books, flip phones, iPods, digital cameras what’s driving this moment feels deeper than a simple longing for the past.

2016 is resurfacing because it offers relief.

It feels like a psychological pause point. A time before the current news cycle, before the constant sense that we’re watching the world unravel in real time. Especially in the U.S., where the political and cultural climate feels increasingly charged, people genuinely don’t know what, or how, to post anymore. Revisiting that era gives people a socially acceptable break from having to respond, react, or perform relevance.

It’s also been ten years, and as my friend Gabby (@strutsocialwithgabby) has pointed out, 2016 was arguably the peak of Instagram.

So yes, it’s nostalgic. But it’s also comforting. It’s memory as refuge.

Back then, Instagram itself was fundamentally simpler. There was only one way to experience your feed: chronological. There were no Reels, hashtags actually worked for discovery, and the platform revolved around photos and filters we’ll never forget. In hindsight, it feels like simpler times, and also like a reminder of how quickly time passes. So many of us still remember #TBT or Throwback Thursday, a ritual that once anchored the week and somehow quietly disappeared.

The aesthetics mirrored that simplicity. There was far less curation, and people weren’t trying to brand themselves with every post. They were documenting life as it happened, not worrying about likes or engagement.

A trend like 2016 invites us down memory lane, and as we reminisce, we start to notice how much has changed and how much, perhaps, hasn’t.

At the same time, there’s constant conversation about the future of social media, much of it unfolding against a backdrop of AI-generated content, increasingly professional videos, and ever-higher bars to entry. People are tired. Fatigued by perfection and by the sheer volume of content being served to them all day, every day.

What we’re slowly starting to see on Instagram now is a quiet shift back toward the imperfect and the unpolished. 2016 captured that energy without trying to. These photos reflect less overthinking, more presence, and a sense of living in the moment rather than staging it.

There’s also a deeper craving underneath it all. People are longing for a time when social media felt more authentic, and for many, when they themselves felt younger and less burdened. There’s a collective fatigue with what social media has become. Endless AI-generated content, overly aesthetic feeds, declining reach year over year. People are craving community, they’re overwhelmed, and increasingly skeptical.

For millennials especially, it’s personal. It’s a reminder of who we were before the weight of responsibility, burnout, parenthood, financial stress, and global instability. It’s not about wanting to go backward, but about remembering a version of ourselves that felt lighter.

Brands can participate in this moment too, but only if they resist the urge to overthink it. Going back to the 2016 version of the brand old logos, early product photos, even screenshots of what an Instagram grid once looked like can be enough. Highlighting the founder in 2016, what they were working on, struggling with, or dreaming about, brings people into a story rather than a campaign.

Humor helps. Many brand accounts today are run by Gen Z and younger millennials who intuitively understand internet culture. Letting that personality come through without micromanaging the creativity often works better than trying to engineer virality.

Sharing old emails, customer support messages, or internal moments from that era in a lighthearted way can feel surprisingly human.

It doesn’t need to be a ten-slide carousel or a deeply strategic activation. Sometimes the most effective thing a brand can do is simply participate honestly.

For many people, this trend is about reflection, and about finding a gentle way to show up again when the present feels heavy. For others, it’s a moment of orientation. Looking at where we were, where we are now, and quietly asking ourselves how we got here.

Both can be true.