American Girl was acquired by Mattel for $700 million and drifted steadily away from what made it special. The historical characters were retired, replaced by contemporary dolls reflecting girls' lives today.
Lonelygirl15 became a cultural phenomenon, drawing viewers into a narrative that blurred the lines between reality and fiction, ultimately reshaping how audiences interact with online content.
Beleaguered Louvre president Laurence des Cars quits after a historic heist under her watch. The next morning, a new leader is announced. It's Christophe Leribault from the Palace of Versailles, a true museum animal who ran a few during his career.
So I've seen generations change, and Gen Z is the generation that's most similar to my generation, the sixties. They're very value-driven. They're concerned with climate, they're concerned with authenticity, truth, being who they are, and relationships.
My father kept manuals for products we hadn't owned in years, filed alphabetically in a cabinet. When I asked why, he looked at me like I'd suggested burning money. "What if we need to look something up?" The concept of finding any manual online in seconds just doesn't compute for a generation that had to rely on these paper lifelines.
As technology distracts, polarizes and automates, people are still finding refuge on analog islands in the digital sea. The holdouts span the generation gaps, uniting elderly and middle-aged enclaves born in the pre-internet times with the digital natives raised in the era of online ubiquity. They are setting down their devices to paint, color, knit and play board games. Others carve out time to mail birthday cards and salutations written in their own hand.
Last weekend, I was visiting a friend when his teenage son asked how to address an envelope. Not how to write a formal letter, mind you, just the basic mechanics of where to put the return address. It struck me that what seemed like essential knowledge when I was growing up has become almost arcane wisdom in the digital age.