Ka kite ano, e hoa mā!
We’re closing out the year on a note of reflection - 2024 has been in equal parts amazing and difficult for the majority of students at AUT and across the motu. A couple of highlights include having classmates slowly admit to me they’ve never picked up a copy of Debate, community infighting as I promoted Salient’s kororā for the Bird Of The Year campaign (we lost) and came into campus to see that contributing photographer Max, their girlfriend, and their mates had plastered tara iti for BOTY posters across our stands (they also lost). It’s been a weird one.
That being said, we’re looking back on more than just 2024 in this issue. I’ve freed Caeden from the shackles of news and let them run wild reviewing old romantic comedies, contributor/musician HIRI compares nostalgic reminiscence on the Auckland music scene to their time in LA, and Stella has been looking through some old copies of Debate - or rather, Debait as it was called before the uni changed its name from AIT to AUT. We flipped through pages of horrific satire that seemingly only appealed to edgelords who thought oppression was funny. There was a fucking “White Issue” in 2007, and someone was doing a white supremacist satire where they defended the KKK. At least, we hope to dear god it was a satire.
As harrowing as it was to look back on, we figured we’d better acknowledge the ways the magazine has fucked up in the past. Of course, we haven’t published shit like this in years, but the name carries some weight and we hate that stuff like this was even written. There’s no way to reminisce without clearing out the spiders in our cupboard, I guess.
Even though I’ve introduced and haphazardly co-ordinated each issue, this magazine has obviously been the work of an entire community of editors, artists, writers, photographers, and designers. Thank you to Tashi, Thomas, Stella, and Caeden, our section editors who have provided writers with guidance, feedback, and workshopping for their mahi. Cam has done an incredible job keeping our social media looking fresh, and our graphic designer Gabbie has been the MVP of this magazine through a multitude of late nights and hot girl walks.
Thanks to the good people at AUTSA, especially my bosses Jesse and Jo-Hill for enduring my fuckups and giving me a job. Thanks to my former editors; Nam for
bringing me into this magazine, and Sam for seeing me from feature writer to editor. Thank you to everyone who has contributed to this magazine; Max, Evie, Nabeelah, Amani, Luke, Elle, C, Nathan, Paris, Dana, William, Hiri (especially) - these are just the people who have written three or more pieces for us! Thank you to everyone who has created art, written their truth, or done anything for this magazine. A particular thank you to you, dear reader. Ngā mihi nui - we’ll see you in 2025.
One last playlist of my favourite Aotearoa tunes from 2024, as a little treat:
Carb on Carb - Home Again 7
Jack Bromwich - Dust
HIRI - Juliet
Wiri Donna - Stop Charades
Dateline - Please Knock Me Out
Recitals - Champion Runner
BONES - Slow Rage
Yon Loader - Another Year
Written by Liam Hansen (they/them) @liamhanse.n EDITOR
2024 is coming to a close what has AUTSA and the SRC been up to?
AUTSA President:
As I reflect on the past nine months as President of the Auckland University of Technology Student Association (AUTSA) for 2024, I’m excited to share a little about myself, the work we’ve been doing, and the goals we’ve set for the year ahead. I’m originally from South Africa, though I attended high school in New Zealand and have been in New Zealand for eight years. I’m currently studying Business and Communications at AUT, and last year, I served as Vice President Academic for AUTSA. My experiences as a student and a representative have made me passionate about improving the university experience for all students.
What the Student Representative Council Has Been Up To
The Student Representative Council (SRC) is a diverse group of dedicated individuals who work hard to make sure the student voice is heard at every level of the university. Back in February 2024, we kicked off the year with a 3-day training session. This was an intensive introduction to the roles and responsibilities of each member within AUTSA, covering everything from governance to advocacy, and preparing us for the busy year ahead.
The SRC meets monthly during semesters to discuss ongoing projects, share feedback, and address emerging issues. One of our key focuses this year has been working closely with AUT to review the university’s new strategy, policies and be involved in university audits to ensure the student experience at AUT is captured adequately. This engagement ensures that students have a direct line to influence key decisions shaping our university’s future.
Each SRC representative is responsible for a specific portfolio, which could range from academic affairs to campus life. Representatives meet regularly with staff in their respective areas, giving feedback directly from students to ensure our concerns are not only heard but acted upon. This structure has allowed us to be more responsive to student needs and better equipped to advocate for change. Some of the key changes we have advocated for is updated lecture content, high quality teaching and for the university to close the feedback loop when students provide feedback.
As the President, I have been involved in several important national campaigns, including initiatives aimed at improving university in New Zealand as a whole and enhancing campus life. Additionally, I’ve working hard to strengthen the collaboration between student reps and faculty.
Looking Ahead: Goals for 2025
As we move into the next year, we have some exciting goals for 2025 that will continue to build on the foundation we’ve already set. One of our major focuses will be implementing the new AUTSA constitution. This will bring our governing structure in line with best practices for student leadership, ensuring that we are more effective, transparent, and capable of representing all students. We also want to continue developing leadership skills within the SRC. By offering workshops and leadership training, we hope to empower every representative to be an even stronger advocate for students.
A key priority for us is enhancing the effectiveness of the student voice at AUT. This means refining the way we communicate with students and the university, ensuring that feedback is not only gathered but acted upon quickly and efficiently. We also aim to continue improving the Academic Student Rep System, so representatives can better support students in academic-related matters and make sure that issues raised are addressed by the university.
In 2025, we’ll also be focusing on implementing the Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) with Titahi Ki Tua (TKT), which will strengthen our partnership and help us launch shared initiatives that reflect our values and priorities as a university community.
As AUT grows, we must ensure that every student feels represented and included. We’re committed to creating spaces that cater to the diversity of our student population, focusing on equity and accessibility across all campuses.
Moving Forward Together
The Student Association and the SRC are here to serve you, the students. Our work is shaped by the feedback you give us, and we’re always striving to make AUT a better place for everyone, so if you ever have questions, concerns, or ideas, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m excited about what lies ahead for 2025 and beyond.
Written By Alicia Lemmer (she/her) AUTSA President
Whining & Dining
Nostalgia is an old friend that visits me whenever I’m in a particular lonesome period of life. It makes me romanticise a time when making friends was as easy as showing up to school. When you were surrounded by a group that understood all your idiosyncrasies and bullied you for them. I long for the distant past when it didn’t take three weeks to schedule a coffee date, only to reschedule it twice for a month later. I was calling my gorgeous friend Jack the other day when we realised we hadn’t seen each other physically in three months. We live in the same city.
But I am no longer lonesome. I am lucky enough to court friends who inspire and coax the odd giggle from my throat. And I wish someone had told the first year sitting alone in the library that, eventually, she would be okay.
For some context, here is a brief glimpse into the history of my social life. During my first year of uni, I embarrassingly missed high school. Well, really, I missed the girls I had left behind. My closest friends had taken a page out of every misunderstood protagonist in a coming-of-age novel’s book and fled their hometown. My social life and emotional stability were unfortunate casualties of this phenomenon. What’s more, I made the crucial financial decision of not staying in halls. So, the opportunities to broaden my circle were limited. I remained largely without friends for so long because I outsourced all my social needs into a relationship. Never do this, by the way. It was only post-break-up that I really lamented my lack of platonic friendships.
Making new friends in the city is diabolically difficult. Most are fed this vision of the university years spent running around a city,
We’re, Not Quite, Dancing in this World Alone
spontaneously collecting a myriad of characters to populate our lives with. Instead, I bounced from lecture to lecture, clinging to fickle social interactions with people with whom I didn’t altogether align. When I caught up with some friends who left home, most struggled to find their people in their various cities, even if they stayed in halls. I found myself wondering how on earth the most engaging and remarkable women I know were struggling to make genuine connections with people.
My core female friends keep me sane and out of trouble, well, mostly. To state the obvious, the community around you has a material impact on not only your daily life and identity. During my year of solitude and seclusion, I couldn’t shake the incessant ache caused by the lack of people to share this life with. And so I set out on a bear hunt to try and gather myself some mates. And unlike the picture book, I was so scared.
So here’s some advice gained from my trials and oh-so-many errors in building my current, loving community. The main issue I encountered was finding ways to actually meet people. I mainly met people through work and friends of friends. It’s always reliable to meet others through people you already love because of that existing common ground. But that seems like port of call number one. Unfortunately, meeting people outside your immediate circle takes a combination of confidence and luck. I’ve met some of my current good friends while rummaging at Central Flea, sitting in bars and even, shock horror, at the uni library. Once, I met a girl on Symonds Street because we liked each other’s outfits. The key to her flat now sits on my keychain, and she’s one of my closest confidants.
Meeting new people takes time and way more putting yourself out there than I care to admit. As quite the anxious bean, I often find myself overthinking every single social interaction weeks after the fact. Particularly cringe-worthy things I’ve said will pop up in my brain now and again, just to say ‘hi’ and provoke my existing neurosis. But I’ve had to let a lot of that go or just learn to live with those fears to step out of my social comfort zone and broaden my circle. One of the ways I got over this was realising that not everyone will like you. And that’s fine because you don’t like everyone you meet either. I seem to be having several trite epiphanies lately.
But okay, you’ve met some cool people. How do we go from mere acquaintances to friends? Sometimes, they happen organically, from being in regular, close vicinity to someone. But I’ve had many friendships that I’ve had to work a little harder for. Making an effort to make plans and get to know someone. And sometimes, that doesn’t work. Sometimes, you get to know a person better and realise, ‘You know what, that’s not for me.’ It’s a bit like thrifting. There are a plethora of different styles, all carrying different stories. Some fit perfectly on you and in your wardrobe. Others will suit someone else better. Building a new circle, like a wardrobe, is full of risk-taking, mistakes and hidden gems. You just have to be ready and willing to try the clothes on.
I recently read The Rachel Incident, where the protagonist moves to a city where she knows no one. After spending a year integrating into her new surroundings, she eventually makes a trip back home. Only then does she realise that she has something to leave behind, a life full of people who love and care about her. But it takes time. And Rachel doesn’t fully realise what she has built till she has to leave it temporarily. My takeaway is that the quest for platonic love often seems fruitless, and feelings of Kafkaesque loneliness often seep in. But as time goes
feelings of Kafkaesque loneliness often seep in. But as time goes on, it gets easier. You get busy and don’t realise how the seeds you’ve planted germinate and grow. I used to think I would be alone forever. Sue me; I was eighteen and emo. But if I, famously eighteen and emo, can do it, a solid social life cannot be completely unattainable.
This shoot came together through the collective mahi of my talented friends:
Shot by - Alice Naish @ alicenaish
Models - Sofia Roger Williams @ sofiarogerwilliams, Nabeelah Khan @ Nabeelahkhann, Ngaio Thompsen @ Ngaio.thompsen
Makeup - Paris Little @ musebyparis
Pieces by - Ella Cook @ ella.cook.archive
Words (and styling) by - Elle Daji
It’s time for a Romantic Comedy revival. The world lacks the intimate cosiness of films like When Harry Met Sally. This isn’t about pure nostalgia, or a deep need for distraction from the world today (although both may be factors) - instead, I believe we’re missing a level of intellectual capability that can only come from rom-com creators with a passion for the genre.
Romantic comedies are far more intelligent than what they are often given credit for. They were practically invented by Shakespeare (think As You Like It). Jane Austen honed the genre with her novels like Pride and Prejudice in the 19th century, and by the 1930s we had the kind of screwball comedy that would pave the way for the genre. Plays, novels, and films that were considered cheap at their time, like the rom-com, but are now regarded as highbrow.
Sure, we had Anyone But You earlier this year. The film that was poised to be exactly what I claim we’re missing. Based on Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing, it had a gorgeous cast and the director of past beloved comedies. However, despite utilising Hollywood heavyweights and the classic rom-com formula, it missed the magic. This all begs the question, if there can be bad romantic comedies, what makes a good one? And what exactly are films like Anyone But You missing?
Film critic Benjamin Lee argues the romantic comedy genre “is not loved for its gritty realness - but there has to be something deeper, something to make us care for the will or the won’t of
and rich lives outside of their romances.
The supporting cast plays a significant role in this. It is my belief that Carrie Fisher is the stand-out performance of When Harry Met Sally, and this is largely because the film allows her to do so. She brings out a different side to Sally we don’t get when she’s around Harry. Fisher’s character has her own ambitions in love and a rom-com subplot that could rival the main characters.
British romantic comedies have mastered the supporting cast. Bridget Jones’s Diary and Notting Hill both have strongwilled friend groups that make the lives of the characters feel richer. Of course, what makes Four Weddings and a Funeral so great is the cast of characters who grow together over the decades and make the film feel whole.
Another key component of making a rom-com great is the relatability of the characters. I can relate to the intensity of Sally Albright with her over-specific restaurant orders, refusal to process her break-up, and breakdown over turning forty “someday.” I can relate to Bridget Jones with her messy public speeches and falling for the fuckboy. I cannot relate to Beatrice from Anyone But You being too hot and perfect to the point of ridiculousness.
The most crucial component of a fantastic romantic comedy is the creators' clear investment in the story. When Harry Met Sally came from director Rob Reiner’s period of single -
the formula.” Characters need to have obvious flaws to match their strengths,
ness and subsequent loneliness. The film developed from a bittersweet ending when Reiner no longer believed in love to the iconic one we know today because Reiner fell in love again. Crucially, When Harry Met Sally also had writer Nora Ephron.
Nora Ephron famously invented New York City and the season of ‘fall’ - kind of. She formalised making New York City feel like a small-town community and the changing of seasons feel like its own character. Her writing motto is ‘make them care.’ She wrote and produced her own scripts based on her own experiences. She brought vision and realness to the genre.
Everything I have described as making a good romantic comedy was pioneered by Ephron. It was her intelligence for the genre that made the films look so easy to make. She credits this, her sharp observations when it comes to character and her gift for the written word, with her training as a journalist. To make loveable films you also need a love for film, and she had a cinephile streak with her adoration for the golden age of Hollywood.
Good romantic comedies won’t make a comeback just because studios think they’ll make good money. For romantic comedies to feel like they used to we need a new generation of creatives with the passion, intellect, and experience of Ephron. In short, we need a new generation of filmmakers who ‘make them care.’
By no means is the genre perfect. These films are overwhelmingly white and heterosexual. They often feature inappropriate quips and make minorities the butt of the joke. But it is possible to make films more appropriate for the 21st century without losing the magic of the past. Films like Crazy Rich Asians and Rye Lane do prove this is possible. They’re getting closer, but they’re either not quite romantic comedy enough or not quite blockbuster enough.
When Harry Met Sally is widely credited with kicking off the rom-com craze of the 90s and early 2000s. That’s the kind of film rom-coms need to come back on the scene with. They need to return with a bang.
Written By Caeden Tipler (they/them)
EDITOR
a dear, and spacious part in my heart. Any of my friends could attest to the fact that I fawn over bygone times as frequently as I need to take a piss. How healthy it is to reminisce? Do we help or hinder ourselves when we fixate on the past? I can’t say for sure, but I often find myself reflecting on the very act of dwelling on the past.
Sentimental yearning has an allurement. Remembering the past allows the reconstruction of a memory. With a little reimagining, high school can be seen as carefree and full of fun, despite the reality of school stresses or social pressures. It’s not quite the same as rose-tinted glasses, nostalgia isn’t void of sorrow and loss. While nostalgia can be warm and comforting, it has an undercurrent of melancholy. At its most useful, introspection is involved. Pondering the passage of time between the past and the present. If you can embrace nostalgic mourning, you can support a sense of who you are and where you come from.
The word nostalgia derives from the Greek nostos, meaning 'return home,' and algos, meaning 'pain’ or ‘longing’. It was coined in the 17th century by Swiss physician Johannes Hofer to describe the extreme homesickness experienced by soldiers. He considered nostalgia a psychological illness. Over time, nostalgia has taken on a wider meaning. The word evolved and shifted from its medical usage to describe a more generalised sentimental yearning for the past. Although there hasn’t always been a specific word for it, the feeling of nostalgia can be identified throughout human history, in art, and culture. We don't just long for our personal past, we become fascinated by past eras we didn’t live in.
Artists throughout history have drawn on nostalgia as inspiration for their work. Many periods of art are lathed in nostalgia for a ‘better time’. Romanticism emerged as a reaction to the Industrial Revolution and the Enlightenment's emphasis on reason in the late 18th century. These artists idealised nature and rural life, which was declining as a result of mass migration to smoky cities. William Wordsworth’s shepherd in Michael lived a rich and simple life, uncorrupted by industrialisation.
John Constable depicted the countryside as so tranquil you can almost taste the crisp, clean air. Artists at this time had a fascination with the pre-industrial and mediaeval past. Chivalry and Gothic themes showed a wish to regain a sense of mystery and grandeur they believed was lacking in the modern world. John Waterhouse’s tragic, ethereal women were painted into enchanted mediaeval settings. There was a deep sense of nostalgia in these artists for a time when humans were believed to live in harmony with the natural world. The current popularity of hand-crafts, foraging and pickling is evident we still feel that way. ‘Cottage-core’ is trending, and TikTok tutorials on how to make flower wreaths and darn your socks speak to a familiar human urge to reconnect with a ‘simpler’ past.
There’s something positive in the attempt to reconnect to nature. But nostalgia also functions as a method of avoiding painful emotions in the present by focusing on an idealised past. When I’ve spent a whole day working, hunched over my computer, I imagine my life would be easier if I moved to a little flower-rimmed cottage. If I spent my day tending to chickens and baking fresh bread, surely my serotonin and dopamine would skyrocket. The reality of that lifestyle isn’t as pretty as the honeysuckle-scented dream of skipping around a veggie patch wearing a linen pinafore.
I recently spent two weeks travelling around the English countryside.I felt like a character in a Jane Austen novel, rambling about the moors and picking flowers in fields of sheep, but it wasn’t all simplicity and joy. The weather is unpredictable. There’s no cell service or reliable shops. Midges are constantly trying to commit suicide in your mouth and nose. Wasps are hanging around any good-looking picnic spot. The countryside is beautiful, and worth admiration. But we have to remember that everything has a good and bad side.
Beyond the innocent yearning to quit your brain-numbing office job and live with your sourdough starter in the woods, nostalgia can easily be co-opted by larger ideological forces. Fascism has used nostalgia time and again. The mythologising of a ‘Golden Age’ fuels the fires of nationalism, allowing a population to idealise a time when traditional values were
upheld, societal hierarchies were intact, and national identity was unquestioned. We’ve seen this happen throughout human history. Nazi Germany touted the strength of the Roman Empire and Aryan myth as models of strength and order.
The promise to "make the nation great again", was used recently in Donald Trump’s presidential campaign, during Brexit campaigns, as well as Mussolini’s vision for a renewed Roman Empire aiming to revive Italy’s past dominance. The Roman Empire itself drew heavily on nostalgic rhetoric. When the first Roman Emperor Augustus began his rule he portrayed himself as restoring the values and traditions of the old republic. He presented his reign as a return to stability and moral virtue after the chaos of civil wars. Part of his campaign was to restore mos maiorum ‘custom/ways of one’s ancestors’, using nostalgia for the republic he effectively ended when he established a monarchy.
It’s easy to look to the past and ignore the fact we had the same, unarguably worse, problems back then. When faced with present-day challenges—whether economic, social, or technological—certain sects of society seek something to blame. The group, movement or technology that doesn’t feature in their nostalgic recollection typically becomes the scapegoat. Jewish communities were frequently blamed for the spread of the plague during the Black Death. Industrialisation was blamed for the breakdown in family values. Chinese immigrants were scapegoated for economic problems in the U.S. during the recession in the 1880s. Transgender folk are currently being blamed for everything from undermining womens sports to indoctrinating children.
The problems we face today aren’t wholly new but rather echoes of challenges that have always existed in different forms. Modern concerns about rising crime rates, political polarisation, or declining ‘family values’ are often framed as symptoms of modern decay. Ironically versions of these complaints have been heard in every era. Crime, violence, and family disruption were rampant in most historical periods, from the brutal law enforcement of the Middle Ages to the social upheaval of the 1960s. What we interpret as decline is simply the ongoing cycle of societal change. The result of nostalgia-based thinking results in a skewed understanding of both the past and the present, where marginalised groups and technological advancements become convenient scapegoats for deeper, long-standing issues. By failing to account for the complexities of history, nostalgia encourages falsehood that hinders progress.
Despite these thoughts, I can’t help but feel right in my own nostalgia. I’m grateful that I grew up without a smartphone, and I blame some social issues on the proliferation of social media. Yet, in the same way, my parents worried about my use of the internet, their parents were worried about television, and my great-grandparents worried about the telephone and radio. Somewhere in my ancestral line, I’m sure a Donnelly was getting riled up about the invention of the printing press “disrupting the social order and spreading heretical ideas!” Nostalgia is a timeless cycle. While it offers a comforting escape from the complexities of modern life, it can also obscure the fact that nothing in the past was perfect.
Our longing for the past—whether it’s simpler technology or
traditional values—shouldn’t blind us to the challenges of today. Nostalgia for a time when life seemed less complicated could materialise as a rise in the sale of knitting needles and wicker baskets. But I would be weary. You may lose yourself in the fantasy of homemade breadrolls and suddenly find yourself perpetuating misogynistic Christian values trad-wives. In the end, nostalgia reminds us of our shared humanity across generations. But we must ensure it doesn’t become a crutch, an excuse to avoid confronting the present, or a tool for fostering division.
“Will you do me the honour of putting this beer…up your ass?” That’s not a request from me, but the opening line from the trailer for n00b, an upcoming teen comedy. The show feels like Sex Education procreated with Derry Girls and had their spawn adopted by a quirky Kiwi couple. Set in 2005 in the small town of Gore, dubbed in the show as the “epicentre of NZ’s homosexual community”, it’s a nostalgic dive into early internet chaos and adolescent misadventures.
n00b has all the makings of a teen comedy hit. It’s complete with classic high school archetypes: the closeted popular boy, the hot mean girl, the clueless himbo, the zealous Jesus freak, and the brooding emo loner. But these characters are more than just The Breakfast Club stereotypes. The ensemble of Gore College teens have plenty of heart, but they won’t think twice about getting up to mischief.
From TikTok to TV
Victoria Boult, the series creator and director of n00b, joins our morning interview from the comfort of her home. She had endured several exhausting late nights directing another upcoming project. Despite this, her infectious, effervescent energy can be felt through the screen. It’s hard to believe she’s running on little sleep.
The genesis of n00b started when Boult and producer Rachel Fawcett were paired through a development program which connected writers and producers. Their first meeting was through a screen in a fast-paced Zoom call. “We had just six minutes to introduce ourselves,” Boult recalls. “She [Fawcett] was fading out at the end, and said, ‘This is my number—call me!’”
Boult and Fawcett shared a vision to create a TV show by young people, for young people. Over coffee, they conceived n00b, sparked by a shared frustration at the lack of high-quality youth content in the country. “There wasn’t anything for young people that was professionally made by young creatives,” Boult says.
The show draws inspiration from mid-2000s internet culture—Y2K fashion, music, and early days of social media—which Millennials and Gen Z now view with wistful nostalgia. “There hadn’t been any stories exploring the impact of social media’s rise on young people,” Boult
explains. “We thought, ‘It’d be fun to make a TikTok series about that’”
Despite Boult’s initial scepticism about TikTok, thinking it was just for “dancing teenagers,” the series hit 1.5 million views on the app since its launch in mid-2022.
After n00b’s breakout success on TikTok, Boult and Fawcett were eager to take the show to the next level. Their passion didn’t go unnoticed— New Zealand On Air saw it too. In 2023, they received the news that n00b had secured funding to expand into a full comedy series on ThreeNow and Three. Boult vividly recalls the moment: “I ran downstairs with Rachel, we opened the email, and I just started crying.”
Tears, Triumphs, and Turning 17
Boult was not the only n00b member who had emotions run high throughout the making of the show.
Actress Felicia T’oa answers my call on her phone. She has thick, long brown hair, which frames her face like a mane as it cascades over her shoulders—a feature she was encouraged to embrace in her role on n00b. During our interview, she was wearing a classic white “I Heart NY” t-shirt, a souvenir from her sister’s recent visit to the Big Apple. T’oa’s personality is as vibrant and playful as the character Clara she brings to life.
To’a recalls a tearful audition process that landed her role in n00b After first hearing about the series through her agent, she went through three rounds of callbacks before securing the part. “I got a second callback to meet the actual directors and producers,” she says. It was during this round that she met Shervonne Grierson, who plays Lauren, her best friend in the series. The two were paired together for a pivotal, emotional scene in the audition room.
“I was like, ‘Damn, I gotta bring everything,’” T’oa admits, recognising the gravity of the moment. Luckily, her chemistry with Grierson made the scene even more powerful. By the end of it, both actors were in tears. “I ended up bawling my eyes out, and I was like, ‘I killed that. I crushed it.’”
In addition to n00b being her first acting gig on TV, T’oa celebrated another milestone on set—her 17th birthday. Reflecting on the day, she fondly remembers the cast and crew making it truly special. “They all sang ‘Happy Birthday,’ and we ate cake,” she recalls. “I thought, ‘Wow, this is my family!’”
T’oa recalls her most cherished moment on the set of n00b came at the wrap party. She handcrafted lolly lei necklaces for everyone and created an elaborate flower Kahoa (garland) for the show’s creators. “I gave a huge speech, thanking everyone, and of course, I started crying,” she says with a laugh. “Then I put the Kahoa on the creators, and they cried too. We ended up having this massive group hug, and pretty much everyone was sobbing.”
The young actress infuses her portrayal of Clara with a powerful personal connection. Like her character, T’oa is Tongan and Catholic and has also experienced a sense of isolation in her school environment. “I know what that feels like,” T’oa shares.
“Clara has her foot in two different worlds,” T’oa explains. “The person she is at school and the person she is at home are two different people, and I felt that growing up—it was a big struggle.”
Having moved around Australia, where she and her sisters were often the only brown students, T’oa understands the challenge of balancing two worlds—assimilating into the white culture at school while staying rooted in her traditional heritage at home.
When the Web Was Real
One of the characters, Protagonist head boy Nikau channels his unattainable sexual desires into fanfiction, while ‘it girl’ Lauren curates a polished, idealised version of herself on her Myplace, the show’s version of Myspace. The way this group of outlandish and othered teens navigate their online personas mirrors how today’s adolescents use social media. It’s a form of escape.
However, Boult disagrees. “I think the Internet serves a completely different function today”.
In n00b, each character turns to the internet to escape, using it to connect with a more genuine version of themselves that they can’t reveal in real life. Boult contrasts this with how the internet is used today, where platforms are more about curating a polished, controlled image rather than fostering authentic self-expression. The show taps into this earlier iteration of the web when online spaces were a refuge for young people to discover their true identities and explore themselves without fear of judgement.
“It’s interesting to think about how the Internet has changed from a place which is an escape to essentially just a more magnified version of a judgmental reality,” Boult points out.
Boult acknowledges the powerful allure of nostalgia, not just for millennials but also for Gen Z, who seem to be yearning for a return to the past. However, she and her crew were careful to strike a balance. While n00b taps into the charm of the mid-2000s, they didn’t want to gloss over the era’s more problematic aspects. From the early stages of pre-production, there were clear discussions about authentically depicting the nuanced experience of growing up in a small conservative town during that time.
Caffeine, Collaboration and Connection
Boult shares her morning rituals on set, which involved waking up early for a mandatory coffee and mentally preparing for the day ahead. “I was very into Barbie at the time we were shooting this. One of my best friends got me a T-shirt that says, ‘Written and Directed by Greta Gerwig.” “I wore that all the time on set,” she recalls with a smile as we bond over our shared love of Lady Bird.
Contrary to the common belief that television shows have large budgets, n00b, as a Kiwi production, operated under tighter financial constraints. This meant that shoot days were fast-paced, and adjusting to the rapid tempo took her some time. By the end of filming, Boult and her team had developed an almost telepathic connection with her crew. This allowed them to tackle scenes seamlessly despite the demanding shooting schedule.
Kiwi Voices, American Dreams and Familial Influence
With Aotearoa’s strong appetite for American media consumption, Boult is eager for audiences to see the young adult narrative told through a distinctly Kiwi perspective. “I feel as though we really suffer from cultural cringe in this country,” she says. “We hate seeing Kiwi accents on screen—yuck. I definitely had that as a teenager, always wanting an Americanized version of my own coming-of-age story.”
While n00b depicts the lives of small-town teens, Boult also acknowledges the fantasy of wanting to be an American teenager—a dream many Kiwi adolescents share. The series nods to iconic mid-2000s pop culture, weaving in elements of Mean Girls and 90210, tapping into that desire, but also writing a love letter to the beauty and charm of smalltown Aotearoa.
Boult has a deep affection for all the characters in n00b, but one stands out in particular. James, played by Jaxson Cook, is named in honour of her brother. “James was struggling with coming out in smalltown Aotearoa, and he was unapologetically himself. He was an emo, wore black nail polish to school, and was very proud of who he was.”
Her brother’s journey has had a profound influence on Boult’s life. “I genuinely believe that without him, I wouldn’t be doing what I do right now,” she shares. “The only way I could think to thank him for that was to name a character after him and to write a character based on him.”
This love for n00b and its characters is evident. The show is as heartfelt as it is outrageous, with an affection for the angst and awkwardness of a generation who grew up online. Move over Sex Education and Derry Girls. n00b is here to spice up your screens.
n00b is available to watch on October 17th on Three and Threenow.
Written By Nabeelah Khan (she/her)
CONTRIBUTING WRITER
Musician Migration: Why Do My Friends Keep Leaving Tāmaki Makarau?
Aotearoa has the luxury of being one of the smallest countries with a thriving artistic population. Our nation is built on small uplifting communities, leading the world in our creative production and output. Are we well recognised for these acts? Absolutely not- ask any struggling artist around and they’ll tell you that our market is hard to get into.
I had the pleasure earlier this year of working over in the United States over summer. I was based in California, the nation's thriving hub of small DIY venues and massive stages. Los Angeles has everything the world could want; legalized weed, bars on every corner, massive event stadiums, and a population bigger than our entire country shoved into one city. It is so easy to see why this place, brimming with talent and population, would be one of the most famous music hubs in the world. Being present in the scene and talking to some local musicians gave me a small insight into what happens day to day. So while we reminisce on music, art, fashion and important events that have shaped Aotearoa, I’d like to delve deep into the common NZ vs LA debate that has, in recent years, gripped our industry by its throat. Bear with me, this is a hefty one.
LA- SCENE, ALL AGES, VENUES
LA is a well-known, well-loved crockpot of aspiring musicians and established wizards. Nestled amongst the million-mile-wide city are bars full of practical nobodies, while the streets are full of promotion for worldwide artists. LA has earned itself this reputation after years and years of movements of music growing and strengthening the overall community. From the early days of jazz to rock, rap and pop, it is foolish to argue that any other place has that much of an impact on music creation and reputation. That being said, it’s difficult to fully grasp the scene until you are in its midst.You would expect there to be tight-knit communities full of creatives in such a big city, paving the way for the next generation with accessibility - so what do we as artists have to gain from such a historical place?
I spoke with musicians and gig attendees alike from a multitude of different backgrounds while in the States. For starters, the all-ages scene in LA is less established than the overall music scene and therefore is much harder to navigate. Drummer Chase Perry has found that "Most shows I go to have been a predominantly high school-aged crowd, so usually very young, and the drug use is rampant.
While it’s true that these same problems can be found in Aotea-
roa, all ages spaces in LA are sparse and when found can be dangerous. Venues themselves range from DIY garage spaces and quiet bars on no-name streets - arguably some of the best vibes, but misplaced and misused by the public.
Team USA pulls in on a few core fronts - their people, enthusiasm and ingenuity. The smaller DIY venues as mentioned before have taken not only LA, but the wider US by storm, with the transformation of many garages into hubs of music. These venues are not licensed, nor heavily regulated, but we can overlook this for the space provided to budding new artists. Upcoming artist Aidann (Gruel) speaks to the creativity of the scene, stating, “With social media and access to digital audio workspaces (DAWs) and distribution sites, it’s easier to be DIY than ever. Thanks to the internet, scenes are a lot less defined by geographical location than in the past.” Due to the vast size of the scene, many budding artists have turned to the internet to make their mark, much like the rest of the world after the COVID-19 pandemic. Musicians in the States are resourceful, fighting to keep different genres and scenes alive all over the place. Stepping into a country with so much musical history is sure to influence and encourage other artists like myself - that historical strength and community cannot be overlooked.
NZ- SCENE, ALL AGES, VENUES
Aotearoa is our beloved melting pot of music, dance and everything in between. From inclusive student radios to competitive music funding, we are definitely privileged in our unique position of support and accessibility. The arts are important to us, and despite consistent government decisions threatening the continuation of resources we desperately need, I can say for certain we can strive through and make the most where we can. We have strong talent coming from all over the motu, consistently growing more and more day by day - so what is so tantalizing to our artists about what lies beyond our borders? What do we need to change in our ao to make Aotearoa the place to be or stay?
Lead Sound Engineer at Depot Sound and musician, Noah Page, sat down with me to address some thoughts on the most pressing issues in Tāmaki Makaurau and beyond. With our all-ages scene being almost non-existent, Page shares his experience from drumming in his high school band Universal Authors, speaking to the difficulty for younger artists to grow above their all ages roots - “That sort of audience is not really dedicated to the music, they're dedicated to the culture of
it.” Our all-ages scene can get quite rough, and with consistent venue changes and closures, it’s slowly dwindling out of existence. In 2024, we saw the loss of The Underground, a common venue for all-ages gigs that could not survive the lack of demand and the rising safety hazard caused by lack of regulation. Bands in smaller towns like Kirikiriroa and Raglan struggle to stay afloat, while historic R18 venues such as the Wine Cellar and Whammy Backroom are gone too. Venues like the Tuning Fork, Neck of the Woods and now Double Whammy have fees that are now too high for emerging artists to book, causing an inaccessible space for newer or developing musicians to gain an audience. Were it not for Kiwi ingenuity and our refusal to let the arts die out, the future for us creative folk would look quite bleak. In the words of many of my friends and a certain non-binary editor, “the scene will survive.”
Venue and all ages issues aside, what more can we do and look forward to while in the depths of change? Page delves into the benefits of our community while stating, “There's a lot of potential in the scene, and I would say that there are a lot of hardworking, dedicated people working to make Aotearoa strong.” The size of our industry is a double edged sword - it’s hard to make waves amongst so much widespread talent, but the strength and openness of our community makes it easier to build each other up. There is something special hidden in the whenua we stand on, separating our art from anything found abroad. It is this drive and talent that I implore us to nurture, as ultimately it will be that drive that puts us on the world map and encourages the community to stay, tend to the growing seeds and roots of heritage and continue to make such ataahua art.
As I even out the playing field and compare both LA and NZ side by side, you may be starting to lose hope. Fear not, dear reader, there is hope yet. He aha te mea nui o te ao? He tangata, he tangata, he tangata. Our people are what separate our music hub from the rest of the world- our strength, our mana, our God-given talent. The gold standard that comes from our ngakau can keep us moving, if we allow space for growth and in the words of a certain engineer, “stop cutting corners.” While
Written By
Hirimaia Eketone (they/them)
@hiri_music | Ngāti Maniapoto
CONTRIBUTING WRITER
Micro-Celebrities: REVIVED!
After having looked through a series of gigantic books that make up the Debate Magazine archives for yet another hour, I came to three conclusions.
1. Wow, student mags got away with so much in the 2000-2010s.
2. Student bars were way better in the 2000-2010s (What happened to the free Shihad and Fat Freddy’s drop live, on-campus concerts AUTSA??)
3. The Debate Magazine series, Micro-Celebrities, must be revived.
From one point in the 2000s to another point in the 2010s, the Debate Magazine ‘Micro-Celebrities’ student Q&A series provided a glimpse into the popular topics of on-campus conversation at the time. From whether Michael Jackson was guilty or not, to student’s opinions on gun rights in the US, nothing was off limits. Keeping in tune with this issue’s Nostalgia theme and being a nostalgic (and nosy) person myself, I took off around the AUT City campus with a mission in mind. To revive this longlost Debate series and seek out our campus micro-celebs!
1. Name: Stella
2. Studying? Nunya - it’s a business degree.
3. Go to food for a campus feed? Shin Ramyun.
4. Kamala or Trump? I’m actually voting for an independent party: Dodo Frenzy. #dodofrenzy4prez
5. Who’s an overrated person? The person taking this interview - my dearest friend Ethan. (Thank you for helping to transcript these interviews)
6. A trend that needs to stop? Tiny beanies.
7. Describe the current gov in 3 words: S. O. S.
1. Name: Anna
2. Studying? Visual Arts
3. Go to food for a campus feed? Sub of the day!
4. Kamala or Trump?Sorry I’m literally 15 I can’t vote yet
5. Who’s an overrated person? I love a pop girlie, but Sabrina Carpenter. Sorry.
6. A trend that needs to stop?Self-love
7. Describe the current gov in 3 words: Crazy bitch boots.
1. Name: Eikam.
2. Studying? Law.
3. Go to food for a campus feed? Breaktime, the cafe in WFthe new burgers from there go hard.
4. Kamala or Trump? Kamala - Trump’s an idiot.
5. Who’s an overrated person? Kanye West - he’s a bit odd. He’s funny in a fucked up way.
6. A trend that needs to stop? Ribbed jeans that men wearthey are the ugliest things I’ve ever seen.
7. Describe the current gov in 3 words: Needs to go.
1. Name: Libby
2. Studying? Law
3. Go to food for a campus feed? Butter Chicken samosas.
4. Kamala or Trump? Kamala.
5. Who’s an overrated person? This white man who wears leopard print in our law class - he has some messed up opinions.
6. A trend that needs to stop? Hating on successful women #taylorswift.
7. Describe the current gov in 3 words: Male. Pale. Stale.
1. Name: Anonymous.
2. Studying? Anonymity.
3. Go to food for a campus feed? Eden Noodles dumplings.
4. Kamala or Trump? Who’s Kamala?.
5. Who’s an overrated person? Playboi Carti.
6. A trend that needs to stop? Mini anything.
7. Describe the current gov in 3 words: Selfish. Entitled. Racist.
1. Name: Rayna.
2. Studying? Business management and HR .
3. Go to food for a campus feed? Lamb samosas and kebabs.
4. Kamala or Trump? Kamala - definitely, Trump? Absolutely not.
5. Who’s an overrated person? Kim Kardashian, the Kardashians as a whole.
6. A trend that needs to stop? Misogynistic male podcasts. The whole point of podcasts is to voice your voice, but often male podcasters will hear it, shit on it and that’s the content.
7. Describe the current gov in 3 words: Waste of time.
1. Name: Adelaide.
2. Studying? HR and Marketing.
3. Go to food for a campus feed? Chicken Subway, loaded with sauce.
4. Kamala or Trump? Kamala. I despise Trump.
5. Who’s an overrated person? The prank genre and street interviewers are overrated. Not like this though.
6. A trend that needs to stop? The minimalism of houses. People don’t have any creativity anymore, just turning these beautiful old houses into boring ones. There was a trend of Mums painting their kids’ rooms beige and bland. How are their kids gonna grow creatively?
7. Describe the current gov in 3 words: Waste of money - also increase minimum wage. Cutting off money to departments dedicated to queer, Māori and Pasifika communities does no good.
1. Name: Saig.
2. Studying? Architecture.
3. Go to food for a campus feed? Probably just a steak and cheese pie - and a protein milkshake.
4. Kamala or Trump? Kamala.
5. Who’s an overrated person? Overrated? Hmmm … Justin Bieber. (His friend: “Nah, Taylor Swift.”) Nah she’s valid bro. 1989, bro? 6. A trend that needs to stop? Maybe people colouring out the yellow in their docs. Cause you thought you were being different but it’s actually a trend. Everyone looks at his friend’s docs…
7. Describe the current gov in 3 words: I don’t really like most of their policies. But what benefits me is that I can get the last year free. As an immigrant, I wasn’t able to get my first year free, but now, I can get my last year free. I don’t really like them tho. (Stella: “Three words.”) Not. Cool. Guys.
1. Name: Ezra
2. Studying? Biomed and Genetics - “I plan to create immortality.”
3. Go to food for a campus feed? Vada pav is the best food. You know Dosa Corner?
4. Kamala or Trump? Kamala or Trump? I honestly don’t care. (His friend, Aran: “Kamala’s the obvious choice. One’s young and one’s a sex offender.”) Well, that does put it into perspective.
5. Who’s an overrated person? Probably the President of America. Just any of them. Anyone who runs a country.
6. A trend that needs to stop? Smoking in public. It just feels really bad to be fair. Ban cigarettes - legalize shrooms. I love psychedelic drugs. There’s an aftereffect for a few weeks. You know religious idealism? Shrooms can have the same effect.
7. Describe the current gov in 3 words: Based on what’s around, everything’s falling apart with this pro-wealthy government. Lazy. Wealthy. Disconnected.
1. Name: Aran
2. Studying? Biomed - “I plan to create a disease to kill everyone. Just to balance Ezra out.”
3. Go to food for a campus feed? That’s a good question. What is my go-to campus food? The place I’ve gotten the most food from is that weird tuck food shop up there. Specifically that chicken place near the bubble tea. Also the Vada Pav. 4. Kamala or Trump? Kamala, yeah I like Kamala I understand people voting for Trump over Biden because Biden was old as fuck. But between Kamala and Trump - it’s obvious to me. I’m from Switzerland, a very conservative country and everyone makes fun of him. He’s a sex offender, he’s possibly a rapist. There’s no way.
5. Who’s an overrated person? Help me out here. (His friend, Jesse: “Taylor Swift.”) Fuck you. I feel like every politician is overrated. Ben Shapiro? Nah everyone hates them. (His friend, Erza: What about philosophers?) I don’t know, I kinda like them all. Except for the Nazi philosophers. What do you guys think of them? (Stella and Ethan: Not a fan) Oh, wait, Christopher Luxon! How is he running the country?
6. A trend that needs to stop? Oh, I know - no, that’s not very leftist of me I feel like people are very black or white. But this has been going on since the dawn of time. You should be able to label your opinion without being called a racist - unless you’re a racist, then you should be called a racist. There shouldn’t be such polarisation. But I would rather say I prefer a society of over-sensitive people than extremely insensitive.
7. Describe the current gov in 3 words: I don’t think it’s necessarily lazy. I would say: Selfish. Shortsighted. Sloppy. The one thing I agree with is the whole university thing.
1. Name: Jesse
2. Studying? I’m actually a student from UoA, but AUT is actually better. Next year I’d like to start my Masters in urban
planning. Maybe psychology at AUT if I don’t get in.
3. Go to food for a campus feed? I like the Hare Krishna food over there because I’m vegetarian. Everything that he [Ezra] said, I love too - especially that Vada Pav.
4. Kamala or Trump? Kamala, obviously. Trump is an objectively bad person. He’s trying to ban human rights, and ban abortion. He wants Christian law to be reinstated. He wants to make America the Handmaid’s Tale. Remember in 2020 when he wanted to overthrow Biden? He should be in jail.
5. Who’s an overrated person? Taylor Swift. I think Taylor Swift is overrated. She’s not bad, but I think she’s not the best. Everyone’s entitled to their own opinions. You should never bow down to others because of your different opinions.
6. A trend that needs to stop? Mobile phones should just not exist. When I was travelling around my gap year in Italy I met a school teacher, and she said that the mobile phone is a tragedy. It causes you to not even realize you’re outside. A good detox is to throw this thing away. We lose contact with the real world.
7. Describe the current gov in 3 words: Selfish. Incompetent. Out-of-touch. Especially with the recession, it’s so difficult to get a job and there is not enough support. In interviews, you go up against 100 other people.
Roper
Recordings of the Runway: Ā HUA Fashion Week 2024
Lights. Camera. Runway.
Debate writers Stella Roper, Sanskruti Banerjee and Nabeelah Khan attend the three different runway nights at Te Wiki Āhua o Aotearoa, investigating the locally-ran fashion week showcase which strived to unveil and celebrate the undercover fashion scene that’s been hiding right under Tāmaki’s nose for too long. It’s about time for local fashion designers to have the spotlight, and Āhua has dutifully done so, in a breathtaking fashion.
NIGHT ONE: Life Cycle of A Butterfly Stella Roper, they/she, @stellyvision
Āhua started strong with their first runway of the week, Life Cycle of a Butterfly.
In the moments pre-show, the venue, Raynham Park had become packed full of excited attendees. The air's electric feeling was partly influenced by the buzzing 2000s-inspired beats provided by Tāmaki-based DJ; Cupid (@cupidx99). As I become enveloped in the sea of black outfits from the fashion-forward crowd, I shift my gaze upward and find the two walls on each side of the runway displayed with images of featured designers alongside Āhua’s statement butterfly motif.
This was a project that I imagine had taken many moments of transformation to establish. Now, having emerged from its chrysalis, Āhua is ready to take flight.
A countdown ticks to 0, and the room is silent in anticipation. A lone girl walks up the runway, quick to break out into fast-paced contemporary dance. Her body almost jolts in unison with the intense eclectic sounds overwhelming the space. Projections of white-faced ghouls and monsters surround the walls opposing the runway, the found footage-esque visuals curated by videographer JJ Farry (@jj.farry)
Night One featured a glamorous array of designs that blended art and fashion. Intricate knitted garments from KONGCORE looked as if they were flowing in motion, the fluidity and strength of the pieces highlighted as the models sauntered down the runway. Pearls dripped and string webbed around MAXINE’s collection, a skeletal contrast toward the flesh-coloured fabric and ruched texture also incorporated within several featured garments. As the music shifted to atmospheric yet ominous choral music, attendees laid eyes on Wei Wen’s collection. The drapery and meticulous patterns of knit and crochet were beautiful to watch in movement and reminded me of medieval knight chainmail.
Zheyi Ruan provided a drastic change of colour palette compared to the more subdued hues so far, as vibrant reds and greens playfully intermingled across the runway. Showing versatility, Ruan had flowy dresses of a variety of lengths as well as a skintight jumpsuit. The beadwork on this collection was truly something to behold in person, with the attendees gasping as each work came out.
Sleeping Profit’s detailed pleated skirts and corsets were on everyone's mind - an attendee next to me commented “I’d totally buy that.” AeraTheLabel was the final act within the show, featuring their wedding collection, and it absolutely rose to the occasion. Asymmetric knots, a veil and lots of lace. As Āhua, Life Cycle of a Butterfly, had come to a close, I wondered: Who’s wedding did I just attend?
Overall, this show utilized the flexibility of the human body, a fluid canvas, truly showcasing the beauty of their pieces. I would have loved to see more intense makeup and hair on these looks, to truly mirror the eccentric nature of the LCOAB show.
NIGHT TWO: Evils & Parties
Sanskruti Banerjee, she/her, @san._.banerjee
Ahua’s night two Evils & Parties was dedicated to alternative fashion.
We’re talking unconventional and bold, a style that fits outside of your typical norms. This night featured creations by; Laurence Sabine, banshee, Evangelixir, Taur, Tokyoelpari and Depth of Scye.
Crowd members rocked leather, big jackets, plaid, boots and channelled the spirit of Evils & Parties through innovative fashion pieces. The wicked vibes were kept afloat by DJ Vitamin Cos who curated beats that added to the suspense and energy of the runway. Within the set, there was a cheeky feature of Lana Del Rey.
Night Two’s array of designs blended creativity with performance, each walk having its own story to tell. While some designs were intricate in their eye to detail, others retained a simple colour or theme concept such as plaid or blacks and whites. With dark colours such as reds, blacks and greys, the atmosphere was one of suspense, anticipation and a somewhat foreboding sinister tone. The pieces and collections featured individualistic and original styles, all with bold show-stopping moments. Whether this was big balloon sleeves, cut-outs, padded shoulders or confident poses at the end of the runway - the audience was left mesmerized by each collection and the unique flavour to alternative fashion it brought.
Evangelixir’s collection served as a personal favourite, garnering cheers from the audience due to the sleek black cut outs, leather and bold walks from the models. This collection also featured veils, black and silver to stay true to the Evil & Parties theme.
NIGHT THREE: Boy’s Cry Nabeelah Khan, she/her, @nabeelahkhann
Night three of Te Wiki Āhua o Aotearoa delivered an explosive finale to the third and final runway night. Curated by Āhua producer Nina Bailey, Boys Cry reimagined urban fashion, featuring collections from Fringes, Fourteen Labs, Milan Jeon, Maxwell, Club Klepto, and Existence.
The packed crowd, a vibrant sea of mesh, lace, leather, and denim, gathered along the edge of the runway. Each person reflected their unique style, contributing to the eclectic aesthetic. Heads tilted up or leaned in close, straining to catch snippets of excited conversation over the booming hip-hop beats reverberating through the space. DJ Panadoll (@24panadoll) energised the crowd with mixes of Tyler, the Creator and Yeat.
By the third and final night, the audience was well-acquainted with the show’s atmosphere, yet the anticipation remained palpable. Boys Cry wasn’t just filled with youth; among the crowd was an elderly grandmother who stood proudly at the edge of the runway and waited to congratulate her granddaughter, who made her debut on the catwalk. Raynham Park's walls were transformed into a moody, gritty urban landscape by the captivating visuals designed by Dingfly (@dingfly. art). Inspired by old video games, these visuals featured abandoned, graffiti-covered alleyways, creating an immersive backdrop for the designers' street-inspired collections.
The collection featured a fusion of baggy, functional pieces, intriguing cut-outs, and tarnished denim. The Boys Cry show exuded a predominantly masculine fashion and attitude, contrasting with the previous night’s themes of Life Cycle of A Butterfly and Evils & Parties, which showcased more feminine designs.
Milan Jeon’s opening collection was a standout favourite, which showcased blue denim garments with intricate drapery and bold headpieces. Incorporating up-cycled materials, Jeon's collection added a sustainable edge to the runway.
As the runway show came to a close, the designers were met with an eruption of applause and cheers as they took their turn to walk down the catwalk. They were presented with bouquets by Palestinian families, who had worked with the Āhua team to determine where the
fashion week's profits would be donated. The energetic third night of Āhua was filled with aroha.
To get a closer look at the mentioned designers, behindthe-scenes and more, check out the Āhua Instagram, @ ahuaaotearoa
Photography by Lucas van Schaardenburg (they/them), @schaarsartor
Brotherhood, Climate Change and the Sexiest Man Alive: The Secrets behind Lime Cordiale
As I sat at my desk, in my hoodie and track pants, brothers Oli and Louis from the hit band Lime Cordiale were on their way to an early morning surf. Where? The frigid Cornwall countryside. The pair had made friends with some locals who offered to take them to a hidden beach. Looking out the window behind them, I saw nothing but overcast skies—they have an unwavering commitment to surfing. Cornwall beaches are Antarctic in comparison to Bondi or Bronte Beach. The Aussie spirit never leaves you, even when you're halfway across the world. "We make a point of sightseeing everywhere we go."
Being bandmates and siblings can be tricky. Case in point: Oasis. But Lime Cordiale found a way to get along. The pair fought a lot as children, but that only brought them together. Oli points out that you "become mates, even with all the fighting. Now we know each other inside out, and it's easy to tell when one of us is having a rough day or just needs some support." As the older brother, Oli led the interview while Louis occasionally chimed in.
Lime Cordiale’s origins take us back to high school in 2009. Side-parted bangs, iPods, and Jay Jay's graphic tees were all the rage. "We were into bands like Kings of Leon, The Strokes, The Kooks, Fat Freddy's Drop, oh and Vampire Weekend back then," Oli says. These bands and their sonic sensibilities are clearly felt on their early EPs. The boys were heavily inspired by the "groove and sound" of “Clean the House” by Fat Freddy's Drop in their song “Spider Legs”. "The two have a lot of similarities, but you wouldn't think of [“Spider Legs”] being a Fat Freddy's Drop song."
Oli tried his hand at a bunch of punk bands in high school, but none of them lasted longer than your typical playground romance. "Someone was always quitting, wanting to change the name, or the band would just fall apart". That's when his big brother wisdom kicked in: "If I form a band with my brother, we can't really break up, right? It's bound by blood—he can't escape."
Apart from the sinister connotations of "he can't escape", the pair have developed their musical talents together. Over the years, Oli has been credited on the guitar, vocals and some clarinet. Louis has taken the spotlight with the bass guitar, trumpet, lead vocals and even the kazoo. They've worked seamlessly together without spilling any blood for the past 15 years, evolving their funky and bouncy sound. Their first EP, Faceless Cat, was humorously described by the pair as "pretty weird." With their initial releases, they focused on making their music radio-friendly. "Not too long, not too short, and with a big chorus."
After varying successes in their earlier works, the pair's 'get famous quick' mindset only lasted a short time. "It wasn't until we did our first album, Permanent Vacation, where we did just kind of go, you know what, fuck it. Radio is not going to play us, so let's just record what we love and what our fans love."
The name Lime Cordiale has family roots for the brothers. "Our last name is Liembach, but our dad's side of the family just calls us the limes," Oli pointed out. "On a family holiday to Europe where we started writing our first songs, we were attending a little classical music festival that our aunt puts on in the south of France called Music Cordiale. Which led us to think "how funny and beautiful would it be if we started a band called Lime Cordiale?"
"We had a stupid little joke between us, and that became the band name."
At first, the boys performed in small, low-key pubs dotted around Avalon. A small suburb in Sydney. Their audiences mainly consisted of their friends. "At the earlier shows, we were just trying to keep people dancing and keep people interested. We hate it when heads turn away during a set," Oli said.
Intimate venues often attract dedicated fans, so it's no surprise that one of their most memorable fan moments happened at a University of Melbourne show. Giggling to himself, Oli recounted how once "a guy got up on someone's shoulders and poured a whole bottle of cordial all over his head. Everyone below him got covered in cordial."
Like their fans, the brothers aren't afraid to be themselves on social media. The band's social media platforms are an unpredictable fifty-fifty mix of promotional material and shitposting. Countless drunken escapades litter their feed. Their next sponsorship could be Guinness beer, given how much they post about it. Seeing them as musicians, loving brothers, and ordinary blokes is refreshing.
It wasn't until their first European tour in 2019 that they were able to quit their day jobs and focus on touring full-time. Oli had been working as a part-time music teacher while Louis was a contractor—jobs that didn't exactly excite them. "There's at least eight years of hard slogging around Sydney and Melbourne before we could say we were popping off as a band" […] "It's been a really slow climb, and I think that's made us better."
Arguably, the band's magnum opus so far has been their collaboration with British actor and musician Idris Elba on the EP Cordi Elba. Oli and Louis were on the lookout for someone unique to collaborate with. They first asked an unnamed French musician if she would like to feature on their new album. "When that didn't come through, we looked to Japan for hip-hop artists to possibly perform with us. But we couldn't really find someone that felt right."
By pure chance, Elba was down under filming 2022's Three Thousand Years of Longing. A mutual friend "flicked the track Unnecessary Things to him." Loving the song, Idris Elba got in contact with the band. Before they knew it, and "in about three hours", Elba and the band had completed their first collaboration.
and Lime Cordiale loved the song. Many would call this experience life-changing or exhilarating, but they summed it up like any typical Aussie bloke. "Sick."
Their collaboration didn't stop there. Elba came back to their studio the following June, and "six weeks later, we'd been working every single moment he had off. Every single moment he wasn't filming, he wanted to be in the studio with us." The EP is a quirky mix of indie rock and alternative funk. It's as if Gorillaz and Neon Trees had a lovechild. Elba's deep, gravelly voice uniquely blends the EP's wavy guitars and upbeat drums. It perfectly balances laid-back vibes and infectious energy, creating a project that feels effortlessly cool yet undeniably memorable. It's a unique mix, but it works. Oli pointed out, "He's the loveliest guy. It's kind of weird how nice and lovely he is. He doesn't have a bad bone in his body. I've started moisturising to prepare to dethrone him as the sexiest man alive."
They've developed an itch for collaborations, claiming that a dream collaboration of theirs would be with Miley Cyrus. "I'd like to collab with a pop star known not just for being a pop star, but for being fucking amazing", Oli gushes.
Lime Cordiale have used their platform to champion the causes dearest to them. The pair have met twice with the current Prime Minister of Australia, Anthony Albanese. The meeting was not a meet and greet with a die-hard fan. But a discussion as representatives of the Australian music community. Oli pointed out that after the "first meeting with him, he pumped hundreds of millions of dollars into the music industry" through Australia's 2023 Federal Arts Policy. They met again earlier this year. This time, they discussed issues surrounding climate change. Oli and Louis are passionate environmentalists and are dedicated to "making things more climate-conscious". They actively promote ethical and sustainable touring, even featuring a section on their website that highlights ways people can contribute to a better future for the climate.
In addition to meeting heads of government, Lime Cordiale have been jet-setting across Europe for their 'Enough of the Sweet Talk' tour. The album went to number one in Australia on the ARIA charts. The first Australian number one in 10 months. I had to ask about their favourite stops so far. Aotearoa
made the cut. Our crowds are "insane." They also gave shoutouts to Dublin, Vancouver, and Canada for their "wild", "loud", and once again "sick" crowds.
Besides selling out shows, the band has been creating a shared Google map, marking their favourite local spots. Everything from coffee shops and parks to venues and kebab shops. They've even added folding bikes to their tour gear to explore cities more thoroughly. "We love travelling, and that's why we do this." When asked if they'll share the map with fans, they revealed it's "becoming pretty mega." A 'Lime Cordiale's Sickest Spots' map seems likely, with their upcoming surf trip likely to make the list.
After chatting about their European adventures, we shifted to their latest album, Enough of the Sweet Talk. The album captures the journey of a relationship, from the blissful honeymoon phase to its bittersweet conclusion. Sonically, the album remains bouncy and warm without sounding repetitive. If you want an album to make you feel like the 'main character', this is the album for you. When I asked what inspired their album concept, they said, "We wanted the album to be relatable to people as if it was one love song, one relationship." They even did some crowdsourcing. They grabbed drinks with friends to talk through past relationships. "The album feels like a journey, going from strangers to friends, to lovers, to enemies, and back to strangers again."
With another hit album, Lime Cordiale haven't let fame contaminate their honesty and passion. "We've always had our doubts, and we've dealt a lot with imposter syndrome. I don't know if that'll change. But you don't get to where we are now without just pushing on."
Lime Cordiale is performing their Enough of the Sweet Talk tour at the Auckland Town Hall on Sunday, the 20th of October. Tickets are available now on Ticketmaster.
Written By Carlos Norton (He/Him) @carlosnorton_ CONTRIBUTING WRITER
Death by Nostalgia: A Gen-Z Curse
I have always yearned for the past. But as I've aged, that feeling has intensified. I'm now 24. With each birthday comes grief for what I've left behind. My high school years were miserable. Instead of socialising, I spent lunchtimes in the hallway of the science block. I'd watch YouTube or scroll Reddit. I dreaded waking up each morning and wallowed in my sadness, listening to Lil Peep on my commute. But I now oddly mourn and ache for this period of my life. Perhaps this is the curse of adulthood, as life is no longer as simple as it once was. Was your life better ten years ago? Nostalgia says yes. This sentimentality for the past is the defining emotion of the 21st century. Why? Because on a planet on the brink of an ecological collapse, rife with economic instability and political turmoil, the future holds little hope. Gen-Z is so anxious about the future, myself included, and nostalgia is an opiate numbing reality's pain.
“Perhaps this is the curse of adulthood, as life is no longer as simple as it once was. Was your life better ten years ago? Nostalgia says yes.”
Nostalgia is not a new phenomenon, with Swiss physician Johannes Hofer in 1688 coining the term. Derived from the Greek nostos (homecoming) and algos (pain or grief), Hofer describes men or women sent abroad as suffering from an "afflicted imagination." Symptoms included self-neglect, depression and suicide. Sufferers of nostalgia were consumed by a desire to return to his or her native land. Initially understood as a 'wasting disease,' millions of death certificates in the 18th century listed the cause of death as nostalgia. The first mention of nostalgia on a death certificate was in the 1720s, the last in the 1910s.
Hofer proposed that the only remedy for nostalgia was "a return to the homeland." But, in its modern form, nostalgia is a near-universal emotional experience that means a wistful longing for a different time, not a geographical location. The emotion is a contradictory phenomenon, as through rose-tinted glasses, the negative aspects of the past are ignored in favour of a manufactured appeal. Life is objectively better in the present if we can turn a blind eye to the future. Soon, our planet may fall victim to nuclear armageddon or another catastrophic pandemic, but I'd never want to go back to the "good ol' days." If you were to ask a family member or a friend about the past, "Is life better now than it was 60 years ago?" most would say "No" without any apprehension. But frame this question in a less abstract form. "Would you give up modern medical advancements to go back to the swinging sixties?" "If you were an ethnic minority and or a person of colour, would you give up all the progress made to your civil rights?" These questions point out the contradiction at the heart of nostalgia. We stroll through history, cherry-picking the things we like and ignoring what we don't.
“Soon, our planet may fall victim to nuclear armageddon or another catastrophic pandemic, but I’d never want to
go back to the “good ol’ days.””
There's a terminological distinction to be made. There's 'restorative nostalgia', a desire to return to that past, and 'reflective nostalgia', which is more critically aware. When I browse platforms like Facebook, YouTube and TikTok, the nostalgic content I consume falls into the category of 'restorative nostalgia.' I'm teary-eyed when I watch a Fortnite Season 1 edit. I long for the late nights when my friends and I would play till 3:00 am and always drop at Pleasant Park. The adverse effect on my in-person social life and physical well-being is wilfully ignored. A life without sunlight or fresh fruit wasn't healthy. But with the world around me changing so fast, the future without hope, "I'm not asking you for a week. I'm not asking you for a month. I'm not asking you for a year. Can you give me one more day?" That quote is from a trending TikTok sound accompanying thousands of videos. It's not just Fortnite Season 1 people are nostalgic for. It's anything and everything. Blockbuster, the Scholastic Book Fair, Cartoon Network, Club Penguin, Gangnam Style, One Direction, Twilight, Vine and Le Snak. Not everyone will be nostalgic for these mainstays of the 2000s and 2010s, but the internet has quantified and heightened anxiety. No one is more anxious about the future than Gen-Z, the oldest of whom are only 27.
“If I’m at a party, surrounded by those I love, I know life won’t get any better, so the present is imbued with greater meaning.”
We may be moving forward in the 21st century with literacy levels and life expectancy increasing globally, but Gen-Z reportedly has the poorest mental health of any generation. Is that due to more awareness, less stigma, or something more complex? There's no straightforward answer, but I wish there were. Whatever the extenuating circumstances are, with nostalgia and the internet,
Gen-Z have found a way to inject their lives with a little bit of hope and meaning. But I’m trying to learn to be nostalgic for the present. Life is imagined from a future perspective. A future you. If I'm at a party, surrounded by those I love, I know life won't get any better, so the present is imbued with greater meaning. Hold onto these fleeting moments and live for today, knowing that what you're living through is transient. This is paradoxical, yet it works.
We should also focus instead on changing what is in our control. I don't want to breed indifference, but stoicism can be a healthy tool. It has helped me. To borrow from the Gen-Z cultural lexicon, "It is what it is. If we can appreciate the present more, whilst the future looks so bleak, at least we'll still have the present to enjoy before the world goes to shit.
Written By Thomas Giblin (He/Him) @thegreengiblin
EDITOR
Taking a Byte out of the Apple
Hold onto your AirPods, folks, because we're about to take a wild ride down memory lane. Picture this: It's the early 2000s. Frosted tips are still a thing, flip phones are the height of cool, and suddenly, this sleek brick called an iPod drops into our laps like a gift from the tech gods. There I am, fumbling with the packaging like a kid on Christmas morning, ready to cram my entire music library into something smaller than a muesli bar. And let me tell you, that first iPod was a game
changer. It was like having a tiny DJ in your pocket - minus the obnoxious personality and overpriced drinks. We spent hours meticulously curating our playlists, treating each song like a precious gem. It wasn't just about the music; it was about crafting the perfect soundtrack for our lives. Riding the bus? Bam, instant coolness. Dealing with a breakup? Cue the emo playlist and let the tears flow.
Fast forward to today, and our entire music libraries float around in these mystical music apps of endless discovery. It's convenient, sure, but sometimes I miss the days when my music collection was something tangible, the pride of hours on vid2mp3 was something I could cherish and feel pride about. However, Apple didn't stop at revolutionising how we listened to tunes; they had bigger fish to fry. It's like they took one look at human communication and thought, "Boring! Let's spice this up a bit." And boy, did they ever. These sleek little gadgets didn't just change our playlist game; they completely rewired how we interact with each other, turning our social lives into a digital whirlwind and neverending FOMO.
Step aside indestructible Nokia, enter the iPhone. This bad boy strutted onto the scene in 2007 like it owned the place, and honestly, it kind of did. Suddenly, we had the power of the internet, a phone, and our entire music collection in one device. It was the Swiss Army knife of the digital age. The iPhone didn't just change the game; it flipped the board, scattered the pieces, and started a whole new game that we're still trying to figure out. Texting became an art form, emojis became a language, and suddenly, everyone and their grandmother was an amateur photographer.
But here's where things get a little... weird. While these devices were supposed to bring us closer together, they've also created this bizarre digital barrier. We're more connected than ever, yet somehow more isolated. It's like we're all at this massive party, but everyone's just staring at their phones instead of actually talking to each other. Remember when hanging out with friends meant, you know, actually hanging out? Now it's all about group chats, video calls, and sharing memes. Don't get me wrong, I love a good meme as much as the next person, but sometimes I can't help but feel like we're missing out on real, human connection. It's like we've traded in-person laughs for "LOLs" and heartfelt conversations for heart emojis.
It’s about time we discuss the elephant in the room: social media. Thanks to our beloved iPhones, we can now share every mundane detail of our lives with the world. Had a mean burger for lunch? Better post a picture! Saw the sunset? Time for an Instagram story! It's like we're all starring in our own reality shows, except nobody's watching and the prize is... well, in the end, there is no prize. Just likes and comments from people we haven't seen since high school.
Despite all this digital "progress," there's a growing nostalgia for simpler times. People are actually paying good money for old iPods, like they're a vintage pair of low-rise Levi’s. There's even a trend of undertaking a "digital detox," where folks voluntarily give up their smartphones for a while. It's like we've all collectively realized that maybe, just maybe, we've gone a bit overboard with this whole technology thing.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying we should all throw our iPhones into the nearest body of water and go strictly live off of the land (although, after the year we've had, that doesn't sound half bad), but maybe it's time we take a step back and reassess our relationship with these devices. After all, they're supposed to enhance our lives, not consume them.
So here we are, caught between the nostalgia for our click-wheel past and the touchscreen present, trying to figure out what the future holds. Will we one day look back on our current smartphones with the same fondness we have for our old iPods? Or will we be too busy interfacing with the AI gods to even remember what an iPhone was?
One thing's for sure: Apple has left an indelible mark on our culture, our music, and our lives. They've given us tools for self-expression, creativity, and connection. But it's up to us to use them wisely. So the next time you reach for your iPhone, maybe take a moment to appreciate how far we've come. And then, for the love of all that is holy, put it down and have a real conversation with someone. Trust me, it won't kill you…hopefully.
Written By Ishani Mathur (she/her) @vohnriladki
Rewind and Replay:
Is Our Nostalgia For Sports YouTube Justified?
There’s a quote from The Office that rings truer with each passing day. “I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.” As high school fades from our rear-view mirrors and ‘adult things’ hit us head-on, we often find ourselves taking long trips down memory lane. The phrase “good old days” can be traced back to the 18th century, but the past holds a unique grip on Gen Z.
Many of us grew up with the internet, giving us a high-definition look back at the content that helped us through adolescence: breakups, sporting failures, and hours avoiding guests in our darkened bedrooms. And that’s precisely what we, Henry and Luke, did.
We had similar tastes in content growing up. Sports YouTube. We worshipped channels like the Sidemen, ChrisMD, Dude Perfect, and football compilation creators. We wanted to explore the supposed superiority of yesteryear’s content. Are the jokes still funny, or were we just ignorant kids snickering at anything edgy? Perhaps we look back at it all with rose-tinted glasses because they remind us of simpler times.
For this exploration, we chose six videos from 2014 to 2018 to represent each year of ‘prime’ sports YouTube. Let the games begin.
2014: CROSSBAR CHALLENGE!!!!! | KSI By
Henry
2014, eh? Politics was about who I made captain at lunchtime football. The economy revolved around how I could buy a Juicy at lunchtime. Watching YouTube on my $120 school Chromebook was all I could dream of.
This video encapsulates what football lovers around the world would spend hours doing throughout this era. Each Sidemen member steps up to the ball, attempting to hit the crossbar of the goal in front of them. It sounds simple, and for a lot of people, it is. But for some reason, each time the crossbar is struck, there is pandemonium. The difference in reactions for each member's attempt is what intertwines this video into nostalgia for me.
“Do it for the unpaid workers,” Wroetoshaw shouted when Vikkstar123, a football novice, awkwardly stroked the ball at the crossbar. Cultural music was then played in the video, which seems to have stuck with Vikkstar’s public figure ever since. You couldn't say that now. Back then videos could be controversial and racist. YouTube has now evolved, and editing has become polished and professional. PR teams defend channels as if Aunty Cindy is putting us back into lockdown. But somehow, this group of boys had football fans and Sidemen fans chuckling, using inappropriate sexual references. The casual racism also passed the 2014 vibe check.
The video somehow has 58 million views, showcasing the popularity and effective content Sidemen created. Ten-year-old me was oblivious to the casual racism and sexual references used, as I was simply attempting to find a personality trait.
2015: ChrisMD Vs The F2 | The ULTIMATE Sunday League Footballer
By
Luke
ChrisMD was living my dream. He showed me it was possible to make money by filming yourself on the pitch with mates. If you scour his
channel, almost every video uses the same formula—striking endless balls and scoring impossibly impressive goals. Only the stakes and the guests ever changed. Don’t fix what isn’t broken.
In this creation, Chris collaborates with F2Freestylers, a behemoth of sports YouTube. What made ChrisMD and this genre so popular is its organic combination of relatability, humour, and footballing flair. This video is jam-packed with shared laughter and some incredible dopamine-triggering moments, accentuated by over-the-top editing. Football videos and copyright-free electronic dance music are YouTube's pie and Blue V.
Like most teens, I once dreamt of becoming a YouTube sensation. This dream culminated in a Minecraft BedWars video I made with my friends. It got 91 views, not nearly enough to justify the permanent stain left on my digital footprint.
Rewatching these videos takes me back to the blissful carelessness of my early teens. When I close my eyes, I smell the freshly cut grass and hear the screams of “TOP BINS!!!”. While it turned out that you need personality, production quality, and more than one total upload to make it on YouTube, football challenge videos hold a special place in my heart. But not so much for my parents. They got tired of walking in on me watching “Top 10 Respect Moments in Football” at the most ungodly of hours. Still, there are worse things to catch your teenage son doing during those hours.
2016: Bottle Flip Edition | Dude Perfect By Luke
Nothing on the internet lasts forever, but the bottle flip challenge, in my mind, is the greatest viral trend of all time. It was exquisite in its accessibility and magical moments. The trend’s major advantage was how effective it was at irritating adults. Schools overseas banned it, and one parent on gearjunkie.com called it a “powerful gateway drug to a lifetime of waste and a disregard for the health of natural habitats.” Settle down. At a regional tournament, my cricket team drove our coach to the brink of insanity by obsessively bottle-flipping on the sideline. We finished dead last.
An 18-year-old American at his high school’s talent show birthed the bottle-flipping trend. He lands one flip in sync with Jorge Quintero’s epic 300 Violin Orchestra. The crowd erupts in a roar. It’s a tangle of limbs. Dude Perfect, famous for their outrageous trick shots and stunts, saw that winning concept and took it to a whole new level. My favourite flip went through a sunroof into a car’s cupholder. An honourable mention goes to ‘FLIP or SMASH’, a two-player game in which a failed bottle flip meant a glass bottle to the head. The skill, the comedic timing, the creativity and the celebrations made this video unstoppable.
The celebrations made this trend grow to the size it did. The feeling of landing a bottle flip to the excited prepubescent cries of mates was intoxicating. If I landed a bottle flip and did a dab in 2024, it would rip a hole in the fabric of spacetime. Like all trends, bottle flipping began to lose relevance in 2018. Christopher Luxon attempted the trend on October 3, 2023, officially turning off its life support. If bottle flipping was trendy now, I have no doubt our prime minister would outlaw water bottles in schools.
2017: Little Boy | KSI By Henry
The KSI vs Wroetoshaw diss track drama was a historic battle. With the Sidemen group being the most popular UK group on YouTube during this time, the beef within the group was content mastery. Many thought some would leave, or at least we were made to believe the beef was “real”. I remember this beef being the easiest one to understand, as it included two of the most popular social figures in the group. KSI and Wroetoshaw.
Diss track season was a chaotic time on YouTube. Every week a new thrilling piece of content would appear on my subscription inbox, for us to enjoy. The childish insults like “You ain’t sidemen you gook” and “Keep playing fifa you ignorant fuck, your girl is a gold digger” that 13-year-old me had no real grasp of. This confused me due to the multi-million dollar mansions they lived in. I envied the bling, but I can’t repeat KSI’s more boorish insults in this piece.
With this diss track, it’s KSI, looking out on Beverly Hills, standing there verbally abusing Wroetoshaw’s family. He delivers sharp lyrical jabs to the head. The diss track is a mix of competitive spirit and the desire to go viral within the community.
The reaction video to the diss track from Wroetoshaw and his middle-aged mum is superficial. They sit there with cheap dangling earphones, acting like they're not earning millions from this beef.
We often get sucked into content that's popular, but I still can’t wrap my head around how this was allowed on YouTube. This era of YouTube brings many questions to the table about where society was at this time. It was clearly easier to get away with things. Diss tracks were universally popular due to their provocative nature, which would garner tens of millions of views. YouTube culture in this era would almost always overlook the bad and accept this controversial content for the attention it brought to the scene.
2018: Logan Paul vs KSI By Luke
The KSI vs Logan Paul boxing match was nothing more than 18 minutes of two egotists punching each other for money. Logan Paul filmed a suicide victim in a Japanese forest for views eight months prior. I will always remember the first line of the apology video, delivered like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar: “I have made a severe and continuous lapse in my judgement.” Meanwhile, KSI rose to fame, trivialising sexual assault and harassing women at public events. Nowadays, their energy drink company, Prime Hydration, sells highly caffeinated products to their young and impressionable audience. Both creators have also engaged in cryptocurrency ‘pump and dump’ scams, hyping coins up online before selling them to profit at the viewers’ expense. Money talks.
But back then, it seemed like everyone I knew had a dog in the fight. I spent many of my formative years living under a rock and only learned about the boxing match during cricket training. I listened to my teammates’ conversations intently, deciding that supporting KSI would garner the most approval. I’m nostalgic about the months leading up to the fight, but only because “Logan Paul or KSI?” is far easier to answer than “What are you going to do after uni?”
I often wonder why everyone was so obsessed with this boxing fight. Some of this can be attributed to the need for adolescents to fit in and our infatuation with celebrities. But it ran deeper. For us testosterone-fueled males, physical prowess has historically played an over-inflated role in determining our place in social hierarchies. In primary school, the kid who could run the fastest ruled the playground. In high school, it became about who could beat who in a fight. In modern-day toxic environments, bicep circumference and body count can make or break you as a ‘man’. The novel incongruity of two dudes we ‘knew’
battling it out in a boxing arena felt unmissable. Consuming hours of content from a single creator was parasocial, and there was no way we’d miss seeing our ‘mate’ in a fight. It was too good to be true.
2019: Greatest Sports Moments | WTD Productions By Henry
I spend a lot of time lounging on the couch, doom-scrolling TikTok trying to find something that will enliven my being. I feel miserable about doing sweet fuck all, so I manage to reach for the TV remote, fire up the Apple TV, and search for a YouTube video to distract me from my phone.
I click to re-watch the Greatest Sports Moments. Commentator Sir Martin Tyler delivers a line that gave me goosebumps: “Manchester City are still alive here, Balotelli… AGUEROOOOOOO.” “I swear you’ll never see anything like this ever again, so watch it, drink it in.” If your hairs don’t stand on end while watching this scene of utter pandemonium, I'm convinced sport isn't for you.
The video is filled with the highs and the lows of memorable worldwide sporting performances. There’s something for everyone. It’s captivating how the raw passion and titillating tension are distilled into brief moments of euphoria. You might have only just stumbled across this video, but I promise you won’t be disappointed. The cinematography of each clip hits the spot jumping from quick cuts to slo-mo replays. It’s a delightful couch viewing. The video will be played at my funeral. Twenty-eight minutes of peak sporting pleasure.
I’m not the only fan; my co-writer loves the video, even though his beloved Spurs don’t feature once. If you haven't watched it, I hope I've convinced you to indulge in this remarkable video.
Giroud Awakening
YouTube will always be complex. We explored only one miniscule corner of the platform, and yet there was so much to unpack. Our journey through the 2014 to 2018 sports YouTube era threw up a whirlwind of emotions. It was somewhat soothing to revisit content that made us feel like greasy high schoolers again, even if it brought about an overwhelming urge to douse ourselves in Lynx Africa. But seeing some of the dross that passed as comedy back in the day made us wonder if we should’ve left it in the past where it belonged.
There’s always risk associated with revisiting things we once loved. Often, the memory of something is far more beautiful than the experience itself. We can end up tainting the wonderful feelings associated with a memory if we attempt to relive it.
This era of sports YouTube was ephemeral. It was lightning in a bottle
Upon first glance, Justine Kurland’s Orchard (1998) spells something idyllic. A field, a fruit tree with girls hanging from its boughs, all of which evoked nostalgia for cold waterholes, lilting breezes, dark purple of cool plums, crumbling bark and the sweaty crooks of limbs. Beneath the surface of its simple beauty, the photograph seemed to hold a simmering energy that gnawed at me. When I first laid eyes upon it, I ached to understand.
I learnt the photograph was a part of a series called Girl Pictures (1997-2002) by American photographer Justine Kurland. The blurb of her book reads:
She portrays the girls as fearless and free, tender and fierce. They hunt and explore, braid each other’s hair, and swim in sun-dappled watering holes [. . .] Their world is at once lawless and utopian, a frontier Eden in the wild spaces just outside of suburban infrastructure and ideas.
Orchard’s heady gaze, its rolling hills and white blossoms, appealed to my identity and experience living on the Thames Coast, waterlogged and rife with heartache. I instantly identified with the alternative mode of living Girl Pictures suggests, whereby women exist outside of men’s jurisdictions. The absence of men from the photos, and the solidarity and tenderness between the girls, implied something inherently queer that spoke to my own identity.
Growing up I spent summers on the Thames Coast at my grandfather’s beach house; it was surreal, then, to move there from Tāmaki Makaurau at age 14. Living in Thames, I embraced nature as a refuge in the face of loneliness that stemmed from my queer identity, general sense of otherness and a pretty har-
No Man’s Land
rowing romantic relationship, which largely defined my outlook in the context of living in Thames, and shaped me creatively as a person.
The coalescence of nature with the suburban in Girl Pictures speaks to my own occupation with these spaces as a teenager. I crawled through a water pipe and spilled onto the beach. I frequented empty skateparks; sat on roads to watch the sun set; balanced on a drainpipe overhanging a gushing culvert. I was drawn to the no man’s land quality of these spaces, something I think appeals to the adolescent sensibility. Claiming these spaces was a rejection of the conventional and a reaction to my position on the cusp of adulthood, with a sleeve caught in the teeth of childhood.
My connection to the whenua was inextricable from my evolving sense of self. I felt deeply attuned to the cycle of the seasons, as if they were an extension of my body and consciousness, or the body of my guitar resting in my lap. I think of the oak tree by my house, which in autumn dropped its leaves into a stream whose pools were home to native long-finned eels. I think of sitting on a rock in the pūkaki, the current tugging my feet away from me. I think of the macrocarpa leaning against the hillside, an eye on the glittering firth. I think of wandering down to the bay below, swathed in the smell of jasmine and salt. Here, I understood the essence of myself.
Written By Beth Torrance-Hetherington (she/ they) @beth.torrance CONTRIBUTING WRITER
Building a home inside out
My therapist once told me that nostalgia isn’t about missing the big things that happened, it is about the little pieces of life I left when I gave myself completely to a moment.
When I decided to move abroad I knew I’d miss my family, my friends, the food, and the city where I lived for 30 years. But nothing prepared me to miss the small things about the house where I spent most of my life and how that would shape who I want to be.
I’ve dreamt of the house I grew up in almost every day since it sold six years ago. It reminds me of simpler times, times when my family were all together. Times when I could shut my door and enter a world of my own, completely under my control, where no one was allowed to disrupt it, and I miss it. Now I live in a house with three other people. I share a room with my boyfriend and nothing is totally mine anymore; only the drawer filled with mementoes still carries a sense of who I am.
My bedroom evolved with all the different stages of my life. When emo culture influenced me my walls were filled with posters from bands, and my bathroom was filled with hair products. Good Charlotte and Green Day filled the air with the vibe that no one understood me. When I started daydreaming about buying a van, driving from coast to coast, and learning to play the ukulele, I painted my room with earthly colours. There was a globe on the floor and a wall tapestry above my bed. Having these objects on display solidified who I was at that moment and helped me define the stages of my life. I now feel like I’ve lost who I am, what moves me, what music I like. Everything is foreign and new and I feel stripped to my bones. The clothes I bought are a mixture of all my past selves and nothing suits me. The décor of my current room is a mixture of my boyfriend’s electronics and guitars, a used nightstand, empty suitcases beneath the bed, a lonely calendar, and cheap fairy lights on the wall. It doesn’t feel like home.
I found out that moving abroad means constantly moving houses and rooms in search of a better life. I often wonder, without a permanent place, who am I? If the walls are bare, if the furniture belongs to someone else, if there is not a space that belongs to me anymore, what is the theme of my life at this moment? Before, when life got difficult I could go to my little hiding spots around my house and sneak a cigarette or listen to music. I could go to the roof to see life from above and imagine that the streets were like a chess board where I could move the pieces around. I could go to the yard, bring a sleeping bag, and lay there taking in the little bit of fresh air in an otherwise extremely polluted city. That house was also the place where my friends and I would usually end our nights out, having stolen a drink from my father’s liquor cabinet. All of that is gone now, it will never happen again and it often makes me cry. The nostalgia of the house that saw me grow up for 26 years is now an apartment complex. The memories of my brother sharing a Guinness with me after my first break-up are nothing but dust.
It's scary and sad to think that when I visit my home country my room won’t exist anymore. There will be no place that is just mine; just like here. I’m in this in-between where nothing belongs to me. I don’t belong anywhere. My old house used to be my golden cage, no matter what bad things happened in my home country, in my family, or my life, that house and my room were my safe spaces and nothing could penetrate them.
It's taken me a couple of therapy sessions to realise that nostalgia is not all bad and it serves a purpose. Nostalgia forces you to look at what you lost with love. It motivates you to search for those missing pieces in new places, new people, and a new you. Moving abroad changed my perspective on life. The world is less scary here, the houses don’t matter too much anymore. Now I can find the rooftop that I lost in the mountains, I can find the fresh air by walking to the sea, and I can share another beer with my partner and my new friends in little hidden bars around the city. It is the outside that matters here.
The purple bougainvillaea flowers that used to wrap around my old house now wrap around my arm as a reminder of my old life. But now I know that outside the house is where I can begin to create the new me, the me of the moment, the me that is trying, the me in a relationship, the me that moved abroad and is making a beautiful life happen for herself.
Written By
Melissa Jimenez Najera (she/her) @MelissaDCarmen CONTRIBUTING WRITER
Anemoia
I often get a wistful feeling while listening to music or watching a film made before I was born. The haunting, anxiety-inducing synths of the original Terminator soundtrack; the grainy, saturated hues of a film like The Warriors or To Live and Die in L.A; the bustling soundscapes of a neighbourhood park during the early 1990s - all of these vignettes conjure up an odd sensation in my mind. It is a feeling of missing out on something important, of having lost something that was never mine to begin with. It is a nostalgia for a time that one never even experienced - a feeling described by the writer John Koenig as ‘anemoia’.
The internet tells me that experiencing anemoia is common in the modern age. With the dystopian freight train of late-stage capitalism hurtling through our lifetime, intent on cooking the planet and stomping on worker’s rights wherever possible, it doesn’t surprise me that many people daydream about a simpler time. A time before smartphones and social media wormed their insidious technological tentacles into our collective hive mind. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good brain-rot doom-scroll as much as the next primate hooked up to the internet and staring at an illuminated screen. But there is something in my soul that feels wholesome and right about indulging in a nostalgia that is pure imagination to its core. I remember this feeling the first time I listened to the 90s hip-hop duo Gang Starr. While watching the first season of the 80s-fuelled TV show Stranger Things. I had it during my weird preteen phase of blasting the prog-rock band Rush while furiously playing retro Space Invaders on a PC browser. It is a romanticised, idealised image of the past - a time that I never lived in (that actually no one lived in) but longed to be a part of. The community, the music, the hope for the future. At the very least, the lack of TikTok and fucking Elon Musk. A simpler, better time. Of course, we have to be wary of lingering too long with these rose-tinted nostalgia glasses in place. The decades of the 70s, 80s, and 90s were undoubtedly a mean and insensitive time - complete with rampant sexism, racism, and homophobia that were acceptable in mainstream discourse and society. The anemoia I feel for these decades is not rooted in any nostalgic longing for a time when queers stayed in the closet, domestic violence was widespread, and cigarette smoke permeated public spaces like an acrid smog. Rather, the specific illusory image of pre-9/11 America displayed on screen and through music captures a particular aesthetic mood or ‘vibe’ and resonates with me and many others in a deeply personal way.
For me, the emotional resonance with the past goes hand-in-hand with American media, without which I would struggle to visualise the snapshot of nostalgia that I never lived through. Some people can achieve this through reading literature or poetry, both fiction and non-fiction. While I am a voracious consumer of books I struggle to find the same feeling of anemoia from reading a written text. Film, TV shows, and music are the mediums of nostalgia delivery that have me feeling ‘anemoiac’ deep in my bones. It might have something to do with the fact that these streams of media are so often intertwined with pop culture at large, serving as time capsule snapshots of the zeitgeist at that particular time and place. These past pop cultures can become relevant and meaningful to us, despite our never participating in them - and their effects on us are those of homage, mimicry and recurrence. The cyclical nature of trends in modern pop culture is readily apparent to those paying attention. Whether it’s the recent resurgence and popularity of 80s-inspired dance music or the widespread nostalgia-soaked films and TV shows of the past few years that utilise vintage soundtracks and Spielberg-esque narratives to capture the hearts and minds of young and old alike. Even fashion itself is not safe from the Nietzschean eternal recurrence of low-rise jeans, oversized flannel and hip-hop-inspired streetwear. These pop culture trends allow us to experience anemoia up close and personal; a weird form of aesthetic time travel that can feel both familiar and uncanny. Especially uncanny, if you start to go down the rabbit hole of Baudrillard and ‘Simulacra and Simulation’ and consider that we experience copies and imitations of things that either no longer exist or never even did in the first place. But that’s a blunt rotation for another time.
Anemoia - it’s a funny word made up by a funny guy. But it captures something profound, a nostalgia for something never experienced. Of course, in typical soulless capitalist fashion, the corporate suit husks masquerading as human beings will do their best to claw, squeeze, and extract every dollar that they can out of this amorphous nostalgic sentiment - but at the very least we might get some decent movies and music out of it. Or not. In the meantime, I’ll listen to my Soundgarden and watch my Point Break - at peace and content to float in the warm, comforting waters of sweet, sweet anemoia.
And fuck Elon Musk.
Written By Stu Paul (he/him) CONTRIBUTING WRITER
Illustration By
Tashi Donnelly (she/her)
@tashi_rd
CONTRIBUTING ILLUSTRATOR
