A decade, once concluded, ceases to belong solely to those who lived through it. It becomes common property — endlessly reshuffled, re-aestheticised and eventually reduced to a filter. Instagram’s latest retro wave invites users to visualise how they would’ve looked like in the 1980s had they been there to experience the vibrant decade via artificial intelligence. Yet, when one feeds an Indian face to the machine, it consistently emerges looking like a cast member from an American suburban sitcom. Beneath this seemingly harmless recreation lies an unsettling technological bias, where the algorithm defaults to Western pop iconography and systematically erases the distinct sartorial realities of the Global South.
The portraits spit out by today’s generative bots share a repetitive, almost rigid grammar. Faces are framed by permed, sky-high bouffants, nylon windbreakers, stonewashed denim vests, and neon spandex. Saturated in warm halation and faux film grain, these images do not capture the past so much as recreate a Hollywood memory. It is a visual shorthand borrowed entirely from Western television, flattening an entire global generation into an automated costume party.
This visual vocabulary is historically authentic — but exclusively to the United States. The American eighties were defined by consumerist exuberance and pop-video ubiquity. Jane Fonda’s workout tapes immortalised fluorescent leotards and pastel leg warmers, while prime-time shows like Full House cemented oversized graphic jumpers and blown-out hair as everyday staples. Pop stars and rock icons like Madonna, Michael Jackson, and Bon Jovi popularised acid-wash denim and heavy metal leather. These were the cultural artefacts preserved by Western media archives — the very datasets modern algorithmic models are fed on.
India during the 1980s operated on a fundamentally different sartorial axis. Everyday wardrobes were dictated by the sensible elegance of middle-class reality. On Doordarshan, landmark dramas like Hum Log, Buniyaad, and Wagle Ki Duniya showcased ordinary life in handloom cotton saris, tailored salwar-kameez, high-waisted pleated trousers, and modest knit cardigans.
Bollywood dazzled with Sridevi’s billowing blue chiffon in Mr. India or Mithun Chakraborty’s glitter-soaked bell-bottoms in Disco Dancer. Down south, Mani Ratnam’s Mouna Ragam and Malayalam classics like Thoovanathumbikal grounded youth fashion in printed silks and understated checks.
By canonising neon spandex as the universal truth of the 1980s, generative AI exposes its own provincial lens. It mistakes the American living room for the world’s living room, turning cultural memory into a monoculture where Indian history is written out.
Email: anoushkakundu@newindianexpress.com
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