If you’re a millennial, like me, you’ve probably heard influencers declaring this to be a “90s summer.” Honestly, even if you’re not a millennial, but you’ve spent any time on social media lately, you’ve probably seen this term.
I get it. And, I love it because every summer of my childhood was a 90s summer. You don’t have to be a millennial to relate to or reminisce about “the good old days” – back when summer felt simpler. Days stretched endlessly ahead of you, and entertainment was basically a buffet of random choices; riding bikes until the streetlights came on, drinking from the hose, making up games on the spot or figuring things out as you went and, in the heat of the summer, lounging on the couch under the fan staring at the ceiling (just me?).
But according to the internet, there are apparently very specific qualifications for what counts as a true “90s summer.” If social media is to be believed, a proper 90s summer includes: minimal screen time (zero is the gold standard), bare feet and bike rides, popsicles, sprinklers, sidewalk chalk masterpieces, library dates, plastic pool toys, playing with all the neighborhood kids and staying outside until the sun goes down.
There is no debate that the list provided is awesome and was experienced during more decades than the 90s. And today, in a world that is beyond busy, we want to declutter and simplify where we can.
There is some irony to be found here though. The heart of a 90s summer is about simplifying and leaning away from entertainment and not feeling the need to optimize the summer with camps, travel, educational opportunities, sports, etc. And yet, because of social media, it’s become a defined type of summer, to be labeled and curated for an online audience. It makes simplicity feel aspirational – thus complicating the simple.
We don’t just want summer — we want the right kind of summer.
I think my whole point is that the summers we remember most weren’t engineered at all. They were just lived! And that’s the trick. Instead of trying to recreate a “90s summer,” I encourage you to let the summer of 2026 be whatever kind of summer feels life-giving for your own family.
Maybe that’s a big family vacation every year full of tradition and memories.
Maybe it’s rotating between home days, pool days, and library days all summer long.
Maybe it’s campgrounds and cousins and watermelon on the porch.
Maybe it’s slow mornings and late bedtimes and saying yes to one more popsicle.
Maybe it’s screen-free.
Maybe it isn’t.
So, here’s the point, we’re giving you “permission” to declare this an ordinary summer of 2026. Pick a few things that are “yours” and leave the rest.
What to do this summer might depend on your season of life. If you have a teen this summer, perhaps you are clinging to moments when they are not at their summer job. Or, you are spending a significant amount of time teaching them the real-world habits of being an employee or having customers (lawn-mowing business anyone?). Maybe you’re in the passenger seat more this summer as your kiddo is learning to drive.
The summer magic probably isn’t in whether our summers look like the 90s. And it definitely isn’t in documenting every meaningful moment so we can prove to an online community that we’re doing summer “right”. The magic is in being present enough to notice the moments while they’re happening and probably, in doing less.
The laughter of friends and family.
The sound of kids running through the sprinkler.
The smell of food right off the grill.
The library books piled in the backseat.
The sunkisssed cheeks after a long pool day.
The random games created amongst siblings or neighborhood friends.
The ordinary Tuesday afternoons that won’t seem important until years later.
These are the things people actually miss, that I miss when I think about “90s summers.”
Not the decade. Just the feeling. So, here’s to your “90s summer” ordinary summer of 2026! Enjoy!
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