Not too long ago early digital point-and-shoot cameras seemed to be losing their appeal — some would say they were outdated relics from a time before cell phones took over our lives. But if you sift through social media today you’ll see that this new generation has embraced the nostalgic "vibe" that digital cameras offer. Generation Z has never known a life without high-quality phone cameras, so why the sudden shift to the artistic charm of these early 2000s digicams? Is it a desire to reclaim a nostalgia they never experienced? Or is it a resurgence of appreciation for an old tool that preserves an authentic aesthetic?
Early digital point-and-shoot cameras have allowed young people to recreate the nostalgic, grainy visual style they admire. People will now often promote on social media vintage cameras like Canon PowerShots or Olympus Stylus models — whether they uncovered them in their parents’ storage or bought them secondhand. You may even come across countless digital filters that merge the charm of the past with the polish of the digital age. Beyond this yearning for nostalgia, the appeal of digital cameras reflects a larger cultural shift in the art of photography. For years social media has been dominated by picture-perfect selfies and extravagant vacations creating the illusion of a flawless life — one without imperfections. But many believe that digital cameras are just one of many tools in pushing back against this idealized imagery. With a digital camera there are no filters, no cropping, no editing or enhancing. Instead you’re confronted with a harsh reality — unpredictable angles, raw imperfections and an authenticity that contrasts sharply with the polished aesthetics of what social media has become. People upload their unfiltered digital photos to Instagram in the hope of highlighting special little moments but in a new way. Whether it's group pictures at dinner or candid moments mid-laughter, the rawness of these images creates an authenticity that sets them apart from the standard highly edited digital versions.
At first glance you might see this trend and assume it’s a rejection of modern social media with young people standing up to digital perfectionism. But what looks authentic isn’t always raw. This resurgence follows a familiar trend — one where nostalgia itself is carefully packaged and delivered to audiences with a curated aesthetic. We all know how fast things spread on social media, thriving on cycles of reinvention, and the rise of digital cameras hasn’t put an end to that. As Generation Z continues to embrace the raw unfiltered vibe that digital cameras offer, these photos have become just as deliberately posted as the picture-perfect shots we call fake. It’s funny isn’t it? People post digital photos as if to say “I don’t think much about how I look” while being fully aware of exactly how they look. Now I’m not saying this is a bad thing — I do it too. Social media platforms like TikTok and Instagram don’t just help trends like this rise to fame — they intensify them. What started as a small aesthetic choice among a niche group has turned into a widespread phenomenon shifting from capturing raw moments to fitting an aesthetic. This raises an interesting question — is the appeal of digital cameras about the experience of using them, the “vibe” they create or both? Some people don’t even go through the trouble of buying a digital camera, instead relying on the fast-growing trend of apps with built-in filters, thus skipping the tactile experience that was once essential when digital photography was the norm. Other people may use the digital camera itself but take hundreds of “candid” photos until they find the perfect mix of spontaneity and aesthetic. As we consider this rise in digital nostalgia, it’s less about rejecting social media norms and more about redefining perfection and what that requires. The return of digital cameras today may unfortunately not be about returning to a photographic style before our digitally driven world, but just a new way of curating.
Mikayla Tetteh-Martey is a sophomore in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at mkt62@cornell.edu
