How much nostalgia is too much nostalgia?

One evening not long ago, during peak pre-Ganpati cleaning, my parents and I stumbled upon an old photo album buried in a dusty cabinet. As we flipped through the pages, I paused at a photograph from my sister’s fifth birthday. In the frame, a bunch of children sat cross-legged on the floor, my sister beaming under a pointed birthday cap. On the table in front of them lay paper plates filled with potato wafers, Coffee Bite toffees, and kaju-shaped biscuits, the kind of party spread that felt extravagant back then.

Looking at it, I couldn’t help but smile. Not just at the sight of awkward hairstyles and crooked decorations, but at the memory it evoked. It reminded me of evenings when joy came wrapped in crinkly toffee wrappers, Cartoon Network, and half-burst balloons. The photograph captured a moment of innocence, rituals and bonds that now feel impossibly distant.

That’s the power of nostalgia. It can teleport us, soothe us, and even sell to us. From the relaunch of Campa Cola and reviving retro jingles to 90s-themed Instagram filters and OTT reboots of shows like Kyuki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi, the past has been repackaged, polished, and sold back to us. But why now? And how much is too much? 

Tring-tring: It's your past calling

For people between the ages of 25 and 45, shows like Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi or CID are more than just entertainment; they are tied to their childhood and growing-up years. Re-watching them feels like revisiting old memories and reliving a shared pop culture experience.

According to Dipshika Ravi, National Creative Director at Schbang, the primary emotional driver for the success of such content is the uncertainty people face today, from the aftermath of the pandemic to job layoffs and work-related stress. In these moments, she notes, “nostalgic content feels like a ‘safe space.’”

The appeal of nostalgia has been a recurring theme throughout history, simply repackaged for each new era. As Kunel Gaur, Co-founder and CCO, Animal, explains, "Nostalgia never really leaves; it just cycles. Each tech wave digs up a different past." 

He continues: “Early internet culture romanticised the ’70s, famously called the 'hallmark of creativity.' When social media took off, we got misty about the Web 1.0 era. COVID made everyone (including me) miss the 'good ol days.' NFTs arrived, and the talk turned to the dot-com years and a 'Time to build.' Now AI mashes all those eras together and feeds are full of tributes and remixes.”

In his view, the real reason nostalgia resonates is that most people don’t live in the present. “Their minds are always wandering elsewhere,” Gaur says, “and that elsewhere, in most cases, is the past.”

The allure of nostalgia marketing

The examples are endless: Cadbury’s reimagined cricket ad where the genders were reversed, Goibibo bringing Geet from Jab We Met back to life, Myntra’s campaign with Renuka Shahane, or Yas Island reuniting the Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara cast. Last festive season, Mia by Tanishq brought back Zeenat Aman, dancing to ‘Toh baat ban jaaye’, for their disco-themed collection, and Swiggy Instamart partnered with Karisma Kapoor, dancing to ‘Sona kitna sona hai’. Kapoor was also seen in a recent campaign for Blissclub. 

While discussing nostalgia, one cannot forget CRED. The fintech brand has leaned on nostalgia as a storytelling device, making it one of the cornerstones of its marketing playbook. From its earliest campaigns, the fintech brand realised that invoking shared cultural memories could cut through the clutter and make its quirky, often surreal ads memorable. One of the most notable examples is its use of 1990s and early 2000s celebrities like Bappi Lahiri, Kapil Dev, Madhuri Dixit, and Rahul Dravid.

Similarly, Paper Boat has made nostalgia its entire brand philosophy, not just a campaign tactic. From the very beginning, Paper Boat positioned itself around the idea of ‘drinks and memories.’ Its communication has consistently evoked childhood moments like summer vacations, eating mangoes, playing in gullies, or eating jamuns straight from the tree. The packaging, copywriting, and even the choice of flavours (like Aam Panna, Jaljeera, and Kokum) are deeply tied to Indian childhoods and family traditions. Ads often feature sepia-toned visuals, old-school games like gilli-danda or marbles, and storytelling that leans on innocence and simplicity.

But why are so many brands pulling from the past? Souvik Datta, NCD at Cheil X, says the answer lies in attention spans. “In the race to capture the 'six-second attention span', the fallout is that nothing really stays too long as well. Content creation sans lasting impression. And that's why we are bringing back the magic of what had been created earlier.” 

For Manav Parekh, EVP-Creative at Only Much Louder, it’s more primal. “We are all running low on comfort right now. Nostalgia is the reset button,” he says. It’s familiar, safe, and instantly mood-lifting. “Between money worries, global drama, and AI giving everyone a headache, life feels too loud. Nostalgia is the shortcut.”

This approach has proven to be effective. Parekh points to OML’s Myntra campaign with actress Renuka Shahane, which leveraged nostalgic appeal. 

Due to this, 90s-themed shows like Gullak and Yeh Meri Family top the OTT charts, while Bollywood sequels like Bhool Bhulaiyaa 2 and Metro In Dino also fared well at the box office. Even retro ad compilations on YouTube have seen a rise in views of more than 50% this year.

Who is nostalgia speaking to?

The primary audience for this wave of nostalgia is millennials, or 90s kids, who now have disposable income and families of their own. The emotional pull of brands from their childhood is particularly strong. However, Gen Z is a secondary, but increasingly important, audience. Even if they didn't experience the originals, they are drawn to retro branding and aesthetics.

According to Dipshika Ravi, nostalgia "speaks loudest to those who lived it, but it risks alienating those who didn’t, like Gen Z and Gen Alpha." She notes that for younger generations, some nostalgic campaigns can feel like an "inside joke" they weren't a part of. She adds:

For Millennials, who grew up with these shows and cultural moments, nostalgia is more than content; it’s memory, comfort, and identity. It also appeals strongly to people who crave stability in today’s fast-changing, OTT-saturated world. So while nostalgia is a powerful emotional tool, it does speak the common language. The challenge for brands is to strike a balance and use it as a bridge that invites younger audiences by remixing, through AI, using newer nuances, meme-ifying, etc., while still rewarding older audiences with the comfort of recognition.

Interestingly, Gen Z has developed its own relationship with nostalgia. Parekh points out that TikTok nostalgia content is up 130% year-on-year. “Gen Z is deep into eras they never lived through — Y2K edits, 70s aesthetics, Pinterest boards of old-school looks. The magic is in the remix. Nostalgia plus novelty is what sticks.”

Gaur believes that nostalgia can be a flexible tool for any brand and it can be reframed depending on the audience. "A kids' brand can speak to parents’ memories, a youth brand can nod to early internet or popular culture, a regional brand can lean into local cues," he says. "In my opinion, everyone gets their fair bit of it, and none are left out."

What will tomorrow miss?

A compelling question looms: What will Gen Z and Gen Alpha feel nostalgic for? Unlike older generations whose memories are stored in photo albums or DVDs, their lives are always archived online. Their nostalgia may not be tied to a specific era but to aesthetic moods like Y2Kcore, Kidcore, and Cottagecore. For them, nostalgia is less about time and more about a vibe. Viral TikTok trends are already reviving 2014 Vine humor, highlighting this trend.

Ravi observes that the abundance of choice may actually dilute deep attachment: “Very few things stay long enough today for people to form the kind of bonds we did with Doordarshan or Malgudi Days.”

Unlike us, the future generation will not feel nostalgic after discovering a photo album. As Parekh sees it, Gen Alpha’s nostalgia will be inherently digital. "First Instagram accounts, TikTok dances, discontinued emojis, the smartphones they grew up with," he says. "Pop culture will be more fragmented. K-dramas, esports, meme communities, fan culture." Every day tech will also become a source of nostalgia, from a WhatsApp ping to the Netflix intro or the iPhone home button. He adds, "What Doordarshan was for us, these will be for them. And because life moves so fast, they might even feel nostalgic for slowness. Being offline. The simplicity of early tech."

Gaur sees a future where machines aid humanity to a greater extent and the present generation feels nostalgic about feeling scared of technological changes. 

“The year is 2040,” he teleports. 

“Disease feels like a memory as AI-driven nanomedicine detects and cures before symptoms even show. Every vehicle is a coordinated robot, making traffic, accidents, and delays things of the past. Factories run autonomously, producing goods at near-zero cost, while built-in AI recycling systems break down and remake everything, closing the loop in a seamless, circular economy. And what do we do? We live. The generation living in this time will feel nostalgic about 2025 making everyone think AI is going to destroy us,” imagines Gaur. 

The right way to use nostalgia

When asked if the trend is overdone, Kunel Gaur and Souvik Dutta agree that it's not. "This is also why nostalgia, for a lot of brands, is the lowest-hanging fruit, and possibly why it keeps coming back. It’s lucrative," says Gaur.

However, there is a consensus among experts on the need for thoughtful execution. Ravi states that while it can be powerful, "too much of it can feel lazy." She uses the example of the famous Cadbury cricket ad, where the roles were reversed. It wasn't just nostalgic; it felt "refreshing and progressive," turning a familiar memory into a new story about empowerment.

Dutta believes that when done correctly, nostalgia can be "curated into an interesting experience, but that takes a lot of effort.” He cautions that it's all about "balance and calibration. If nostalgia is served with freshness it can be wonderful but if it's just lumped at you... God no!"

The real magic, according to Parekh, is in "reimagining creativity." He advises brands to "bring back a jingle with a modern sound. Revive a mascot with a new story. Use nostalgia as a bridge, not the full stop.”

Take CRED, for example. Rather than simply glorifying the past, it places celebrities in humorous, exaggerated, or completely unexpected scenarios like Rahul Dravid losing his temper in the infamous ‘Indiranagar ka gunda’ campaign. By doing this, CRED taps into a wide demographic. For millennials and older Gen Zs, who grew up watching these celebrities, the ads trigger a fond sense of recognition. For younger viewers, the exaggerated humour makes the content entertaining even if the nostalgic reference doesn’t land. This layered approach ensures nostalgia isn’t just pandering, but also adaptable to a contemporary internet culture that thrives on irony and virality.

So the answer may lie in balance. Nostalgia, when used thoughtfully, can be a powerful tool. It can act as a bridge between generations, a reminder of shared culture, and a way of grounding people in uncertain times. But when leaned on too heavily, it risks becoming lazy, escapist, and even manipulative.

Perhaps the better question isn't how much nostalgia is too much, but: are we using the past to build the future, or just to avoid it? Because if all we do is look back, what stories will the next generation have to remember us by?