Ohhh yeah, the ’80s, when every snapshot looked like it had been taken through a thin layer of hairspray and hope. Instead of just taking photos, you lived them. Red-eye, bad lighting, and someone’s thumb always starring in the corner, perfection.

You had to wait a week to see if you’d nailed that party pic, and somehow, that made it epic. Every roll of film was a gamble: 24 chances at immortality, or 24 close-ups of your cousin’s mullet. Filters didn't exist and retakes weren't allowed; it was a raw, glorious chaos of big hair, arcades, and smiles that could power a Walkman.

Now the ’80s are calling, and they want those wild, blurry, beautiful memories back; the ones that smelled like Aqua Net, sounded like cassette static, and felt like you were invincible (because for one bright, analog moment… you were).