Born in 1995

Back in 1995, life felt like it was shifting into a higher gear, though we were still firmly rooted in a world of C90 tapes and frantic dashes to the newsagents. It was the year of the Great British Summer—that proper, cracking heatwave where the tarmac melted and everyone seemed to be nursing a lukewarm can of Hooch or a Foster’s while Blur and Oasis went head-to-head on the evening news. You couldn't pop to the shops without hearing "Country House" or "Roll With It" blaring from a passing Nova.

It wasn't all Britpop, though; we spent half the year wondering who shot Mr. Burns on *The Simpsons* and the other half absolutely gripped by *GoldenEye* at the local Odeon, or watching Princess Diana’s bombshell interview on a heavy CRT telly. Kids were obsessed with Pogs and raiding the cupboards for Turkey Twizzlers, while the grown-ups were adjusting to the first full year of the National Lottery.

Everything felt vibrant, a bit chaotic, and remarkably connected, despite the fact that "going online" still involved a screeching dial-up modem and a lot of patience. It was a glorious, sun-drenched muddle of denim, Shellsuits, and the feeling that something big was just around the corner.