The Aughts Effect: Reclaiming My 2000s Style

This story is part of our Aughts Effect package, which celebrates 20 years of Popsugar - and enduring culture. The bumping bass in Nelly Furtado's "Promiscuous." A whiff of Victoria's Secret Love Spell. Each gleaming swipe of Lancome juicy tube on your lips. Low-rise skirts that hang off your hips just so. It all instantly transports you back to the dawn of the millennium, that era of club nights, glitter eyeshadow, going-out tops, and velour tracksuits. Just like photographs on our elusive Myspace pages, those sounds and smells and textures store our memories, sending fleeting moments rushing back to the forefront of our minds. I felt that wave of nostalgia when I shopped for my 2000s-themed outfit for Popsugar's 20th birthday party - and found myself face-to-face with 2006 me. Back as I was navigating the fashion landscape of the early aughts, I was also rediscovering who I was as a young woman trying to find my place in the world. Sorting through rows of sparkly going-out dresses, I remember a girl who was newly introduced to the thrill of the Manhattan social scene. There were so many magical experiences at my fingertips, from clubbing until the wee hours at BLVD to watching Mary J. Blige perform at Summer Jam. I instantly became enthralled with the art of occasion dressing, and it would later come to define my style and life in New York City. Scrolling through a long list of mall brands that embodied the early aughts, I recall someone who, at times, felt like an outsider. I wasn't preppy, rich, or white enough for Aeropostale or Abercrombie & Fitch - or edgy and cool enough for Ed Hardy or Von Dutch. Eventually, I found a home in Baby Phat. With Kimora Lee Simmons's brand, I experienced, for the first time, a label that felt aligned with who I am: bold, feminine, and a tiny bit rebellious. More importantly, it meant everything to me to see women who looked like me modeling those designs - and I still get that feeling seeing Olandria wear the brand today. Looking at shelves lined with colorful Louis Vuitton x Murakami bags, I relive the moment I first experienced their dopamine rush of rainbow color. I taped the iconic fashion ads featuring Naomi Campbell and JLo to my bedroom wall. It was then that I discovered the art of the It bag: how a fashion item can elicit joy and an accessory can become a conversation piece, drawing like-minded people together with a compliment or a knowing glance as we pass each other on the street. In a fitting room full of low-rise jeans - which once showed off my newfound curves and belly-button ring - I remember a girl who...