If I’d grown up in the ’90s, or even the early 2000s, could I have been arguably more mature based on the TV I would have consumed?
Who will ever know? But this, I guarantee you: “Dawson’s Creek,” “Felicity,” “My So-Called Life” and “Freaks and Geeks” will always outshine crap like “The Carrie Diaries” or “Rich Kids of Beverly Hills” in depicting the teenage condition.
After letting different types of “teen dramas” define the genre for most of middle and high school, it was refreshing to stumble upon these antique friends on Netflix over winter break.
That era might have been more than a decade ago, when times were definitely marked less by materialism and social media, but the fact that those shows focused more on internal than external struggles makes them that much more applicable. I can better understand the intense emotions and identity struggles that Dawson, Joey, Felicity, Angela, Brian, Lindsay and Sam go through than the decisions between maternity dresses that the chicks on “16 and Pregnant” deal with.
Too bad I found these guys after my formative years.
I was infatuated with “Gossip Girl” in seventh grade, spending my days trying to find the American Eagle outfit combinations that matched Blair and Serena’s Upper East styles. When my crush was confusing, I’d curse his existence, then watch Jenny deal with a similar situation and debut a goth-Barbie look and model nude for a risque photographer.
Although I wasn’t exactly inspired to kick-start a child pornography career, I decided to wear heavy eye makeup for a few weeks, but I had unresolved feelings over how to relate to Jenny.
But if my crush had been a grade-A douche and I’d watched Lindsay on “Freaks and Geeks” get a wise word or two from her brother’s nerdy friend about how she was good enough, I’d be more inclined to laugh affectionately than feel inadequate because I wasn’t bad-ass enough to lash out.
After I plowed through “Gossip Girl” and cursed my lack of glamour, I began obsessing over “90210,” the revamp of 1990’s “Beverly Hills: 90210” which featured equally affluent teenagers in California.
Regardless of the coast, it seemed that rich, immature kids had it all and I believed that for a good while. Why weren’t frenemies — of all people — giving me cars and Gucci dresses and Tiffany necklaces for my 16th birthday? If I had those things, would being dramatic be more socially acceptable?
People may scoff and point out that maybe it’s also that these were CW network shows, but doesn’t anyone remember when the CW was the WB network? I remember catching glimpses of “Gilmore Girls” or “7th Heaven” or even “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” broadcast on this kid-friendly channel and not coming away feeling more insecure.
Instead, I’d feel empowered and a little less alone.
I’m a strong subscriber of the belief that television makes us feel just as much as it might make us think, and this is especially pertinent when you’re 12 years old and don’t know what to do with yourself yet (yeah, 12-year-olds like me watched Chuck and Blair bang the living daylights out of each other).
Too bad my TV bad-boy crushes came down to slimy and unsympathetic Matt Lanter instead of puppy-dog, somewhat good-intentioned James Franco.
But on the bright side: these short-lived “classics” now live on on the Internet and I guess I know I can always go to them for comfort when that bully in my college dorm insults my fashion choices.
