What do vintage denim, TikTok nostalgia, and sci-fi optimism have in common? This week on History for F***’s Sake, we mark 40 years since Back to the Future first hit our screens by asking what makes this film and its era so enduringly cool.

Our guest, Louisa Rogers, knows a thing or two about fashion as time travel. Now teaching fashion communications at Northumbria University, Louisa grew up in Brussels with an artist mother (think: scrapbooks, wild collage, and never telling you not to play) and a German father whose mind “ran parallel to the scientist in Back to the Future.” That creative upbringing gave Louisa an outsider’s eye and a curiosity about how we tell and wear our histories.

For Louisa, watching Back to the Future was “surprisingly wholesome…not dystopian, but brimming with hope.” She unpacks the film’s pitch-perfect 1950s tropes, the diner, the letterman jacket, the larger-than-life bullies and the ways nostalgia flickers differently for every generation. On TikTok, retro-futurism is having a field day, think cassette tapes, chunky digital cameras, and a hyper-nostalgia for the Y2K era Louisa can barely believe is “vintage.

The conversation zooms out to generational divides and bridges. Why do Gen Z and Gen Alpha view the future through such radically different lenses? How can museums, creative industries, and education empower young people rather than overwhelm them with stories from the past? Louisa advocates for “world-building” in heritage spaces, blending new tech (hello, AR and VR) with the simple power of stories people can actually see themselves in whether they’re 17 or 70.

And when it comes to the so-called recycling of trends? Louisa sees each wave as one degree removed: “Now we’re revisiting the 70s’ take on medieval, not medieval itself.” It means our cultural memory keeps shifting and sometimes gets muddled but also that a sense of newness can sneak into even the most recycled looks.

The real take-home message? Maybe history isn’t something that just “happened.” It’s personal, political, and more fun (and stylish) when we smash generational boxes and share the storytelling. As Louisa and I agree: intergenerational friendships aren’t just for sitcoms and you’re never too old (or too young) to rock Marty McFly’s denim or Doc Brown’s wild hair.

Find out why the future still needs a dash of 1985, and how you can help build a legacy that’s somewhere between chaos and utopia, welcome to protopia.

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