I can pinpoint the exact moment I became aware of how cyclical trends are.

It was 2007, and I was in the passenger seat of my mother’s car, sat eyes wide and mouth agape as she sang along to the Ying Yang Twins song Dangerous. When I confusedly demanded to know how exactly she knew this song, she roared with laughter and said simply, “I know it from the first time round, this is a Ram Jam sample.”

Fashion references work in a similarly cyclic pattern. It’s generally considered that fashion works in a 20-year loop, which is why, when I walk past Auckland’s Victoria Park Skate Park and spot the streetwear hoodies and low slung jeans, I question whether I’ve been transported back in time.

The circularity of trends isn’t at all new. But what has ramped up is the speed with which we as a culture are cycling through aesthetics.

This is especially true in the online space, such as on TikTok, where microtrends gain prominence as fast as the high-speed Internet that carries them. I saw an influencer online wearing a noughties-style pouf hairstyle last week and stopped in my tracks.

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Heidi Klum’s Project Runway catchphrase – “In fashion, one day you’re in and the next you’re out” – has never rung truer. The 2021 wannabe surfer girls we talked about at the beginning of summer have long since swapped their pukka shells for grunge inspired singlets.

I’ve often wondered how this version of fast fashion, and the associated haul culture that promotes mass consumption, contrasts with the Gen Z values of being more ethically-minded and aware of the impending risk of environmental ruin.

Especially when heavy-weight brands are pivoting to the style sensibilities associated with youth culture, and consumption too. See last week’s Dior Spring 2023 show, in which the fashion house partnered with 30-year-old designer Eli Russell Linnetz to create a nostalgia heavy '90s inspired show that reinterpreted Dior’s archive.

Linnetz was quoted in GQ as saying he went into the project wanting “to understand what was happening at the house when I was born”.

As well as the clothes on the runway, the show’s setting on the main drag of L.A’s Venice Beach and audience, which paired '90s pop stars like Paula Abdul and Christina Aguilera with icons of Southern Californian subcultures such as skateboarder Tony Hawk, were fuelled by nostalgia.

What lessons then can we millennials teach those hurtling past us on the nostalgia train?

Firstly: Hold on to your clothes, nothing goes out of fashion forever. You may be sick of them, but you never know when you’ll feel the urge to dig out your boho chic festival wear, slip a pair of dirty wash denim under your dress, or lace up your gladiators sandals.

Or, and this is more likely, when a young person will want to mine your closet for authentic vintage Paul Frank T-shirts.

The second lesson is that if you are truly done with your clothing back catalogue, do not dump it. Sell it to an appreciative young thing online, drop it to a consignment store to re-sell, or donate it to a charity shop. It’s likely worth a pretty penny.

Speaking broadly, I abide by a ‘you-do-you’ principle when it comes to style. If you like something, there’s no reason you shouldn’t wear proudly.

Especially because many items that feature on previous ‘banned lists’ have already made their way back into stylish wardrobes: see low-rise jeans, baguette bags and even, shock horror, Isabel Marant wedge sneakers.

I am fully prepared to eat my bucket hat when the below circle back into vogue – after all, even Victoria Beckham has returned to the clingy fashions of her noughties days – but I plan on making these mistakes once only...

There are whole corners of the Internet dedicated to lamenting the inevitable return of flimsily soled ballet flats, but I’d happily wear them forever more if I never have to slip my feet into a pair of mesh sequinned slippers.

A wearable slip hazard made of plastic which, despite being almost completely breathable, gave most people putrid smelling feet.

Really, anything associated with the ‘recession chic’, wearing an office dress to the club, era.

See also the plastic shaded aviators that Kanye popularised. Far from adorkable.

Truly no uglier way to snap an ankle.

This one haunts me. Avril Lavigne has a lot to answer for.