2020s HAVE ONE THING IN COMMON WITH 60s AND 70s, EXPERTS SAY

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The 2020s echo the midcentury as brands remodel luxury for a drifting middle class amid rising costs and fading trust.

From a fractured trust in institutions and widening wealth divides to the emergence of new consumer identities, the generational whiplash of the 2020s has reignited cultural and economic currents that echo the 1960s and 1970s.

The parallels between the present day and the turbulent postwar era have moved beyond academic observation and into the mainstream, with social-media accounts now fueling public debate over the striking resonance. The theory exploded into public consciousness in February after Sammi Tannor Cohen (@sammicohentalks) and co-creator @thebestmarketingnewsletterever posted a Substack essay and subsequent Instagram post on the subject.

The post—liked more than 8,400 times—argued that the 2020s are experiencing a cultural loop, reanimating the branding, spending, and identity dynamics last seen in the midcentury, thanks to similar social and economic upheaval.

"Consumers today want to feel like they are treating themselves—even if they are not 'rich,'" said Cohen, a 32-year-old content creator and founder of Social Currency, a media platform exploring the intersection of business and culture.

In an interview with Newsweek, Cohen, who has worked in both Amazon's logistics and luxury fashion divisions, described how the recent piece she co-authored spotlighted the evolution of aspirational consumption into what she calls "middle-class luxury."

"The 'rise of middle-class luxury' refers to a cultural and business trend where aspirational luxury—once reserved for the wealthy—has become more accessible to middle-class consumers through clever pricing, branding, and distribution strategies," Cohen said.

The Luxury of Belonging

What Cohen and others have noted is not just a market shift, but a cultural response to a world that feels unmoored. In the 1960s and 1970s, and the 2020s, inflation surged, wages stagnated, and the financial foothold of the middle class, once aspirational, became uncertain.

While the 1970s saw protest, urban decline and policy reform, today's middle class appears to be reclaiming status and comfort through consumer symbols—ones that are attainable, but still aspirational—with many flaunting them on social media.

Brands that once positioned themselves squarely in the mass market are now recasting their products through the lens of exclusivity, minimalism and identity. Products such as the Stanley Cup or Oura Ring, Cohen said, are now cleverly marketed not just for their function but also their emotional and cultural capital.

As Cohen puts it, these are "products with status appeal" that go viral precisely because they give consumers a sense of belonging and entry into aspirational communities in an era where traditional class markers are blurred.

Sammi Tannor Cohen sits at her desk and poses for a headshot. Credit: @SAMMICOHENTALKS

Smart direct-to-consumer brands now employ scarcity, storytelling and aesthetic minimalism to make their products feel elite—even if their price points remain within reach for many middle-class consumers.

Cohen, who holds an MBA from UC Berkeley, says that these companies are simultaneously targeting the top 10 percent and "average millennials"; they can no longer afford true luxury, but still crave differentiation, recognition and, in a nutshell, looking cool and feeling good.

"They want consumers to identify with their generation over their class," the millennial creator added.

An Economic Deja Vu

These shifts in identity are not happening in a vacuum, with even the psychological toll of rising living costs mirroring the response documented in the 1960s and 1970s.

Dr. Kent Bausman, a sociologist at Maryville University, St. Louis, Missouri, told Newsweek that both the postwar era and the 2020s are united by a pervasive sense of social dislocation.

"I often tell my students that both moments are marked by what Emile Durkheim described as anomie," Bausman said, "a condition where the shared moral frameworks that help societies function begin to fray."

In the 1970s, deindustrialization and the oil crisis triggered runaway inflation—from 3.2 percent in 1972 to 11 percent by 1974. Wages failed to keep pace and the sense of security of the working and middle classes began to erode.

Today, inflation has followed a similar trajectory: rising from 1.2 percent in 2020 to over 8 percent by 2022. While it has since dropped to 2.3 percent, housing costs have continued to surge. The job market, once anchored by long-term employment and financial benefits, is now dominated by gig work, algorithmic shifts and graduate unemployment.

"Gig work, automation, and the disruptions from COVID-19 have destabilized traditional employment," Bausman said. "This all fuels the sense that the promise of American life is slipping out of reach."

In both eras, homicide rates spiked dramatically—doubling in the 1970s, and seeing one of the sharpest two-year increases in the early 2020s. Drug epidemics, once heroin, now fentanyl, and even the magic-mushroom boom, reflect not just public health crises, but also what Bausman called "social signals" of despair.

In both the 1960s and 1970s, and today, Americans watched institutions falter. Watergate, Vietnam, and stagflation disillusioned voters then; today, political polarization, misinformation, racial tensions and a chaotic pandemic response have shattered confidence.

"Historically, when people felt overwhelmed by social change, they turned to institutions like government, family, religion for stability," Bausman said. "But part of what makes these moments so volatile is that trust in those institutions has eroded."

Into that vacuum also steps the market—and brands eager to fill the gap with meaning and identity.

"These products do not just meet needs," Cohen said, "they fulfill desires for identity, comfort, and social capital."

This shift, she added, is rooted in what she calls "emotional economics," a cultural economy where perceived experience trumps product quality or even price. In an era where the American dream feels more like an illusion than an aspiration, consumers are carving out new ways to feel special—even if only for a moment.

"Millennials and Gen Zers, for instance, are willing to spend on small luxuries that make them feel like they are living well," Cohen said, "especially in an era of burnout and inflation.

"What was once considered 'luxury' in prior decades is now out of reach, so young people have readjusted to new types of luxuries, which are much more within reach for their socioeconomic status."

By these means, the middle-class luxury boom has become a sweet spot for brands, where labels can reach a large market with premium price margins.

Identity Over Income

Crucially, the middle-class luxury boom is not just about affordability—it is about optics, thanks to luxury now being increasingly "performed" online.

This modern relationship with product branding mimics 1960s and 1970s trends, when postwar prosperity allowed middle-class families to buy into symbols of upward mobility—station wagons, Tupperware, televisions. Today, Cohen argues, instead of televisions, it is Apple Watches and custom skincare regimens.

The ethos has once again shifted from "owning more" to "owning better," and what once qualified as luxury is now unreachable for young shoppers. The solution? Private-label goods, minimalist branding, and viral TikTok videos that make even supermarket candles feel like a splurge. This new culture of consumption, Cohen said, is about constructing identity as much as satisfying desire.

As American consumers navigate economic pressures, generational uncertainty and institutional drift, their purchases, according to Cohen and Bausman, have become both their protest and their comfort.

"When the ground beneath people shifts and the old signposts disappear, social bonds fray," Bausman said. "Alienation sets in.

"Without shared narratives or trusted institutions to help people make sense of it all, what remains is a kind of drift, an emotional and moral free-fall that affects not just individuals, but society as a whole."

Whether the trend for middle-class luxury is here to stay is yet to be seen, but Cohen and other commentators are certain that we can learn a lot from the way we shop and how much it mirrors the past.

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