The 90s had its own language of success, and like all languages, it’s aged in ways nobody predicted. Some symbols of having “made it” back then now read as try-hard at best. Here’s what used to signal success but now just signals you haven’t redecorated since Clinton was president.

1. A pager clipped to your belt

Walking around with a pager visible on your hip meant you were important enough that people needed to reach you immediately. Doctors had them. Business executives had them. Everyone who wanted to seem indispensable had one.

The pager represented being in demand, being necessary. Now it looks like either a hospital employee badge or a commitment to anachronistic technology. We’re all more reachable than ever, but nobody wants to advertise it quite so literally anymore.

2. An elaborate entertainment center

Those enormous wooden cabinets housing your TV, VCR, stereo system, and CD collection weren’t just furniture—they were architectural statements. The bigger and more ornate, the better. Proof you could afford quality electronics and had the square footage to display them properly.

Today’s aesthetic runs precisely opposite. Minimalism won, or at least convinced everyone it did. Those behemoths now look effortful in all the wrong ways. We’ve traded conspicuous consumption for the illusion of effortless living, even though achieving that “effortless” look costs just as much and requires more curation.

3. A car phone (or early cell phone the size of a brick)

Nothing said “I’ve arrived” like conducting business from your vehicle. Those early mobile phones were expensive, impractical, and thrilling. You were living in the future, untethered from your desk.

Being constantly available used to be aspirational. Now it’s expected, even resented. Those chunky phones represented freedom and power. Today, the real luxury is being able to disconnect without professional consequences. The status symbol flipped entirely.

4. Designer logos on everything

Tommy Hilfiger across your chest. Calvin Klein on your jeans pocket. DKNY bags, Guess watches, Ralph Lauren polo players the size of actual horses. The 90s perfected logo culture, and wearing recognizable brands loudly meant you had the income to back it up.

That logic hasn’t disappeared, but it’s evolved considerably. Conspicuous branding now reads as insecure rather than successful—trying to convince strangers of something they didn’t ask about. The actually wealthy shifted toward quiet luxury, things that look simple but cost absurd amounts. Different signaling system, same underlying anxiety about being perceived correctly.

5. A home office mimicking a corporate boardroom

Dark wood desk. Leather executive chair. Filing cabinets lined up like soldiers. Maybe a globe, though nobody could explain why. The home office aesthetic of the 90s copied traditional power structures down to the last unnecessary detail.

Now that look feels performative, especially when actual executives work from kitchen tables wearing hoodies. We’ve collectively decided that comfort and personality matter more than projecting authority through furniture choices. The old setup looks like cosplaying as a CEO rather than actually being one.

6. A complete encyclopedia set

Encyclopedia Britannica lining your shelves meant you valued knowledge and could afford to display it. These sets cost thousands and demanded serious real estate. They were conversation pieces, proof of intellectual investment and long-term thinking.

Then the internet arrived and made them instantly obsolete—but it’s deeper than mere practicality. Those volumes now represent a kind of rigid, gatekept knowledge that feels fundamentally out of step. Information wants to be free, searchable, constantly updated. A static set of books feels almost defiant, like insisting on using a typewriter for emails.

7. A dedicated fax machine at home

Having a fax line at home meant you handled important work, dealt with serious documents, operated at a professional level even from your house. It represented bleeding-edge home office capability.

The speed at which fax machines became punchlines is almost comical. They went from essential to absurd in maybe a decade. Now they represent the opposite of what they once did—not technological sophistication but stubborn resistance to obviously better solutions. Even most offices abandoned them years ago.

Final thoughts

What’s interesting isn’t just that these things look dated—it’s what they reveal about how our ideas of success have fundamentally shifted. The 90s version was louder, more literal, more about displaying achievement where everyone could witness it.

Today’s status symbols are subtler, more experiential, often deliberately obscured. We mock the obviousness of 90s flex culture while participating in equally elaborate signaling. It just wears a different costume. The Peloton in your living room is still a status symbol. So is having the time and discipline to actually use it.

Give it thirty years. Someone will write about how tacky our current symbols look, how transparent our attempts at appearing effortless were. That’s the thing about cultural markers—they’re only invisible when you’re standing inside them.