10. Blink 182’s “The Small Things” and Jeff Buckley’s “The Last Goodbye”

We dive into ’90s nostalgia! What were your favorite ’90s fashion trends? Flannel and Doc Martin’s? Belly shirts? Elaina reminisces about the fads that defined the era, from oversized jumpsuits, coveted labels like Champion, Keds and Lacoste, to chokers and butterfly clips. She connects these memories to larger themes of love, loss, and resilience. Drawing on the music of Blink 182 and the enigmatic – and unforgettable – late Jeff Buckley, Elaina reveals the power of both small moments and enduring connections. With “Your ’90s Are Showing” Dramatic Coffeehouse Reading of Lyrics, poignant storytelling and heartfelt insights, she encourages you to cherish the last hellos – even the “Last Goodbyes” – and find joy in the memories of the past. Don’t forget, dear listener, as far as we go down the waterslide, there’s hope for the future, too. 

Thank you for listening, and don't forget to shine bright!

If you enjoyed this episode, please consider leaving a 5-Star review as it helps my podcast grow and reach more people. Find me on Instagram @Your90sAreShowing and say hi!

About the host: Elaina Satti is a lover of the '90s living in Rhode Island, USA, the smallest state with the biggest heart, and she is in fact a divorced single parent living her best "now what?" exploring the journey of "what's next" – with coffee.

Transcript

Hey, this is Elaina with “Your '90s Are Showing.” You know it, I know it, the '90s. What do we say about it, though? When we go so deep down the waterslide about the '90s, is there any coming back? I don't think so. Not for me and I'm guessing not for you either. Today we are talking about the small things, '90s fashion, am I right? Yes, we had the hip hop fashion. There were the oversized jumpsuits, remember TLC? The Flavor Flav of it all with a big giant clock and when pants were not afraid of making a statement, you know, black and white checks, but sometimes it was the small things. Forget the giant blazers, the neon colors. The jeans, everything. You needed double denim to really make a statement in the '90s with fashion, and it's all making a resurgence and coming back. My older daughter dresses in '90s fashion. She's 13 years old and I couldn't be prouder of that fact, by the way. She lives in concert tees. But it was the small details of fashion. Remember the chokers that every girl was wearing in every TV show? We're talking about 90210, Felicity, Buffy… There was some leather pants action going on. The butterfly clips. Everything seemed to be made of polyester at one point in the '90s. Later on the baby doll style Spice Girl style, earlier on the grunge. Maybe that was a little overstated; there weren't too many small details. There was a lot of long hair, maybe slightly unwashed. I know I embraced the aesthetic with my flannel shirt that I got at, don't laugh, LL Bean. It was so itchy. I couldn't wear my flannel shirt. Today, thankfully you can go to Nordstrom Rack and be decked out in all the flannel that you want. Very comfortably might I add; plaid is back and plaid will never not be back in. But the little details that you need, whether you're going to a '90s costume party because apparently '90s aesthetic is a thing that you can wear to a costume party, or you're just nostalgic for every day. Remember the Doc Martens? They are definitely back in. It was the way that we wore our jeans. But you had to fold them up double cuffed in a certain way. My friend showed me that in seventh grade after science class and I felt embarrassed that I didn't know how to properly roll my jeans in the '90s. It was the little things like the labels that mattered. The Lacoste alligator, at least I think that's what it was…and the Champion symbol. For some reason, I had these two bright champion sweatshirts; there was nothing subtle about them. But somehow the bright turquoise and the bright green gave me the sense of comfortability, the sense of maybe I actually fit in, in junior high, right? Maybe, I doubt it. But the little label gave a big confidence whether it was Keds shoes, you guys know the labels more than I do. Whatever you were wearing, you needed to have that little label, you needed to have that little piece of something that said, This is who I am, my identity. This is how I fit in. And sometimes it's about the little things. 

Do you remember our friends, the punk pop royalty of Blink 182? Do you remember the song “All the Small Things” from their 1997 album Enema of the State? I think there's this really crazy image that pops into my head of a nurse on the album cover with some kind of rubber gloves that she's wearing. And you just don't even want to go there. You don't want to know; you're better off not knowing. But you're driving around in your car in the '90s listening to Blink 182’s “All the Small Things” and that's what brings me to – we've settled on the title here, people – “Your '90s Are Showing” Dramatic Coffeehouse Reading of Lyrics. I'm going to incorporate the title of the podcast because that is the title of our podcast and it's a darn good one. Of course, I will always love “My So-Called Life” the TV show. But it's time to embrace the name of the podcast and it's about time. So without further ado, here are the lyrics to Blink 182’s “All the Small Things.”

“All the small things/ true care, Truth brings./ I'll take one lift. You ride. Best trip. Always, I know/ you'll be at my show, watching, waiting/ commiserating. Say it ain't so I will not go turn the lights off. carry me home.”

And yes, there is a chorus of what else? “Na na na na na na…” Of course. Take it away, sing it yourself whether you're listening in your car or at the gym, maybe even at work, wherever you are, in the comfort of your own home. Do what you do, you do you, right? I'll do me, we'll be fine. But listen to these lyrics: “Late nights, come home/  Work sucks. I know, she left me roses by the stairs. Surprises. Let me know she cares. Just Say it ain't so. I will not go turn the lights off. carry me home. Keep your head still. I'll be your thrill. The night will go on my little windmill. Say it ain't so I will not go turn the lights off, carry me home.”

That punk pop anthem, which was one of my favorite words, you've heard it before on this podcast, ubiquitous, in the '90s, shows us the power of little things, the little details. There was a beloved who left flowers by the stairs, roses, to show that she cared. The little moments in the '90s were the things that got us right? The little moments with your friends riding around listening to Blink 182. Maybe it's the relationship you had, maybe you were the one getting roses. Maybe you were the one getting a customized bookmark, from Barnes and Noble on Christmas Eve from a guy who really liked who actually sort of ignored you. And then was going to buy muffin tins for his mother at CVS because he hadn't gotten her a gift yet. Maybe that was you. Maybe he also broke up with you on your birthday when you turned 18 – and he didn't know it was your birthday. So that's a sad story. Moving on, that's not a small thing. That's a big thing. 

But it's little moments in the '90s that sometimes bring us back, it's hearing that one song like from Blink 182. It's reveling in the small details that are written there. And sometimes in the '90s it was the small moments with friends. I went to Italy; I studied abroad in 1999, the spring of 1999, one of the most amazing times of my life, and I stayed with a host mom named Laura. And she became like my mother and I stayed with my good friend Rosemarie. She's an artist, an incredible artist. And one of my favorite moments was going to visit Rose in her studio because she was studying art. I was studying film and English and writing. So I got to study Dante and Italian filmmakers and I geeked out the whole time on Italian architecture. There wasn't a lot of discotech hopping happening because Rose and I loved Laura and we became like her daughters. We became le figlie, the daughters of Laura. And one of the best moments was going to Rose’s studio. And she actually let me paint. And this may have seemed like a small detail to her. But she let me use her paints. And I painted a cluster of grapes. I am not an artist by trade. This is no surprise to any of you. But just the fact that she let me use those paints and she encouraged me, meant a lot, and I had a notebook at that time where I recorded everything that happened in Italy. It's the small things. It's Rose letting me use some paints, it's the cappuccini that we would drink every morning that Laura made for us before we would go to class. We were laughing together on the buses when we were going to Pisa and Lucca. And when I turned 21 in San Gimignano, which is in the mountains of Tuscany, the little moments with Rose, sharing a Walkman together, listening to the soundtrack of “My Best Friend’s Wedding,” which has a lot of double irony when you think about it. That whole soundtrack, the whole movie. I'm rewatching it. It doesn't have one of those classic happy endings. 

One of the little moments is when Julia Roberts’s character Jules, who is best friends with the Dermot Mulroney character, Michael, promised each other at Brown University when they were 19 that when they turned 28 If they weren't married, that they were going to marry each other. And her best friend, her other best friend, basically confronts her and says,” Hey, aren't you going to be 28 in a couple of weeks?” and she's slowly realizing that she's got to tell Michael that she has feelings for him. And he leaves a message and says, “I have to talk to you, Jules.” So they have this phone call. And Jules says “Before you say anything, I just want to say,” and he rushes in and says, “I met someone. We're getting married this Sunday, and I want you to be in the wedding.” Record scratch, right? It's the small moments. And in that movie, Jules now is determined to go to the wedding and break it up. She's like, “I've got to go break up this red wedding. I've got to go knock a bride out of the way. I've got to go take the groom. And I've got to right this ship because I'm supposed to be. I'm supposed to be with him.” But the small moment happens when she realizes that her best friend who she's in love with is perfect for his bride, played by the stunning Cameron Diaz. And no, she hates to admit it. They are supposed to be together. And the unrequited love. It stings her. Jules and Michael are slow dancing on a boat, and one moment, looking out at New York City, a shadow passes over them through a sudden rush of these clouds over the sun. And the music swells and you see tears and Jule’s eyes because she knows that in some way, even though the wedding hasn't happened yet, even though she hasn't gone through all the drama for one last ditch effort to break everything up, even though she's dancing with the man she loves, she realizes that he's in love with someone else. And she is in a way, giving him the last goodbye.

The last goodbye reminds me of Jeff Buckley. Jeff Buckley was this gorgeous singer songwriter. In the '90s, he recorded his only album in the studio around 1993 called Grace, and if you haven't heard this album, you have to go check it out immediately. It's lush, he has a tenor voice but his vocal range spans all four octaves. Chris Martin from Coldplay was inspired by him, as was Chris Cornell and Lana Del Rey. So many artists have been moved by Jeff Buckley. members of Led Zeppelin were said to have had his album Grace as one of their top albums of the entire decade. And Jeff Buckley's cover of “Hallelujah,” which is featured in the 2008 episode of “The West Wing,” was nominated for an Emmy and put him on the Billboard charts. He's covered Nina Simone, he's covered Van Morrison, he's covered Zeppelin. But he has such a depth and a texture to his voice. His sliding guitar, it's like nothing you've ever heard before. He also has a live album, where he would go to this cafe in New York City, I believe Manhattan, called Live at Sin-e. And that is the coffeehouse where he would play every Monday and he had this incredible cult following and he would play covers as well as his original music. But there's a song called “Unforgiven,” “The Last Goodbye,” which is also on his album Grace. And there's nothing that can really do it justice. But I want you to realize that the last goodbye isn't just in song lyrics. It's in real life. And let me read you some of these lyrics because I want you to picture that you're in this coffee house, too. And it's so lush and beautiful. You almost feel like you're in Versailles. He mentions Versailles in this song, it's like a step above Paris. You can't get more luxe than Versailles. I mean, that's pretty much you're in luxury. And just picture, you’re all this red velvet drapes, red velvet everything. “Your '90s are Showing” dramatic coffeehouse reading of lyrics for “The Last Goodbye:”

This is our last goodbye/ I hate to feel the love between us die,/ but it's over. Just hear this and then I'll go. You gave me more to live for, more than you'll ever know./ This is our last embrace. Must I dream and always see your face? Why can't we overcome this wall? Maybe it's just because I didn't know you at all.” And then he goes on to sing: “Kiss me. Please kiss me, kiss me out of desire, not consolation. And it makes me so angry. Because I know that in time, I'll only make you cry. This is our last goodbye. Did you say no, it can't happen to me. Did you rush to the phone to call a voice occurring in the back of your mind saying maybe, I didn't know him at all? I didn't know him at all…”

“Unforgiven, (“The Last Goodbye.)” In the '90s we all had to give a last goodbye – maybe it was to friends. Maybe it was the last day of high school. And there are some friends you just haven't seen since. Maybe you had to say goodbye to your freshman year roommate. You lost touch, maybe to some of your favorite teachers. Maybe some of you lost grandparents, maybe even some of you lost parents or friends in a way that is still difficult for you to talk about. Maybe you lost something that you can't get back again. Or you think that you can't. Maybe you feel like you lost that version of yourself in the '90s that you're saying a last goodbye to. 

For me, in the late '90s. I lost my grandfather Oscar. He was such an incredibly kind man. He was so dedicated to his family. He built a house in Methuen, Massachusetts, with my grandmother Wanda who passed away too this year, sadly at almost 100. And they had such a rock solid marriage, they built a house together in their 40s.Oscar was all about his family. He was an accident reconstructionist. So he would go through and figure out what happened at the scene of an accident, not an easy job, he would get calls in the middle of the night. But he put his family first like no other. And growing up, we would go to Seabrook, Massachusetts or Saulsbury, right on the border of Mass., and rent a cottage for a week, sometimes two, and those were the most magical times of my entire life. But ironically, as my grandfather got older, he didn't really love the beach to begin with. As he aged, he developed ulcers. Now, he worried a lot about his family about his job, but he was always smiling and laughing. He had a large Armenian family. And he passed those values down of loving family, loving his wife, loving his kids working hard, loving God. He had a strong sense of his Armenian heritage. He had relatives who escaped from the Armenian Genocide, and came to New England. And he grew up in New Hampshire without a lot of money, but with a lot of love and extended family. So my mother grew up with a fantastic father. And I was blessed to know him. I called him Poppy. And I adored Poppy. And the thing about Poppy is that he had such a strong sense of family that I think really the only time that I heard him upset was when my brother accidentally hit his cousin DJ with a bat. My grandfather was not happy because he said, “You don't hurt your family.” Even though it was an accident, it was really funny. I got to see a little bit of his heart. He was always welcoming to people. He had the gift of hospitality along with my grandmother who threw parties. He loved his Armenian food. He loved the Armenian grape leaves, he loved as we say, baklava, the dessert, in Armenian, it's the paklava, like why can't we just let the Greek people have baklava, we have to make it popular. We call it with a P. We called it Armenian bread that pita Syrian bread? Oh no. We called it Armenian bread. So he loved all kinds of Armenian food. And thank goodness we still have a healthy representation of it here in New England. But what I loved about my grandfather and what I admired about him is that even though he didn't like the beach himself, he loved going to the beach house because he said, “I can't wait because my whole family is going to be together.” Even with his ulcers, even with the medicines he was taking for it, which made him itch, kind of from the inside out, which was incredibly uncomfortable. Even later in his life, he developed cancer. He always had a smile on his face and couldn't say enough about his family. I remember him looking at me and saying, Elaina, you get prettier every day. Now, that is a very small thing to say. That is not something that takes a lot of effort. But those words of affirmation, which I was so happy to hear, cost him nothing. It was such a little thing. But that's just how Poppy was. And at his funeral, people were wrapped around the block, giving testimonies of how he made a difference in their lives. And I had to give the last goodbye to my Poppy in the '90s, and I won't forget it. I won't forget the day that I heard and I just started doing laps in our pool and I couldn't stop. And so the tears merged with the cold water. And I had to say goodbye. He wasn't really gone because his memory continued. He loomed large. He was the man who really taught my own dad, his son in law, what it was like to have this father son relationship, he treated my dad Chuck like he was one of his own children. And that was so healing for my dad because my dad grew up without his dad. Victor died unexpectedly of an asthma attack. Now he died after he came home from World War II with a purple heart because he protected his own group of soldiers. With machine gunfire, he took out a bunch of enemy soldiers. And yet he came home and died of an asthma attack. My dad was five at the time, so my dad has very little memory of his own dad. But Victor looked like Old Blue Eyes. Really, he looked like Sinatra. My dad is full Italian. But he didn't grow up with that dad who loved him. He had uncles and he had an incredible family. My grandmother Rose, my dad’s mom, loved my dad, and so did his sister, my Aunty Laura. But saying goodbye to Poppy, I think was also hard for my dad as well as my mom. Because that was his father figure in a way. And going in the car, to and from the church, I felt dead inside; I felt, how am I supposed to face this? I almost felt a sense of anger. How am I supposed to greet relatives, hug them, when all I want to do is lock myself in a room and bawl my eyes out? It was the last goodbye. 

Sometimes, the last goodbye stays with us even today. We've had to give a last goodbye. If you're divorced, single parent now what? like me, maybe you stood in a courtroom. Maybe you looked across at that person that you said “I do” to all those years ago. And now you're saying goodbye to them. Maybe that goodbye happened quite a bit longer before standing in that courtroom and that divorce court. Nonetheless, you're saying goodbye. Maybe you've had to drop your kids off at college. Maybe they've moved away. Maybe you've had to see a best friend who's moved away. Whatever that last goodbye is, it's not easy to do. And if you've done it, and you're still moving forward, maybe we take a minute. Maybe we take a minute to say we're doing this. We're getting through it. We're moving through it as adults now and we're comforting that '90s version of ourselves as well. 

For me, I don't know about you but I much prefer to say the last hello than the last goodbye. Is that even possible? I was talking to Producer Cheris about it and PC was saying, “Yeah, what if we could say the last hello instead?” And with my faith in God, he says that we never have to, when we have faith in Him. We will see another day, We'll have that hope to carry on. And we will see our loved ones again in heaven, where God will wipe every tear away from our eyes. And there will be no more pain. He doesn't promise that there won't be in this life. But we can say the last Hello, I will see Oscar. And again, I will hear him say, “You're prettier today than you were yesterday.” I will see his smile. But the last hello is here and now. When we determine that we are going to be the best parents that we can be, that we're going to be there, we're not going to leave when the going gets tough. I'm talking to you. 

If you are married right now, you can say the last Hello. And you can remind yourself that you said the last hello to your spouse on the altar. You made a vow. So continue to say the last hello to them. And maybe we say the last hello to our parents even though they're getting older. Though relatives might be getting older, aunts and uncles, we can say that last Hello. By being there for them by reaching out to friends, maybe we lost touch or we're determining you know what? You're, you're stuck with me now. You can't get rid of me. I'm going to be your friend for life. You're never gonna get rid of me now. Because we are simpatico we are understanding each other. We are kindred spirits and we have those people in our lives that we say, You know what? You are never going to hear the last goodbye from me. Only the last Hello. 

And that is the gift of what Jeff Buckley brings to us. Jeff Buckley, in 1997 moved to Memphis, Tennessee, and he was recording his next album called My Sweetheart the Drunk, what an amazing title. And on May 29, 1997, while he was waiting for the arrival of the rest of his band, he went swimming in the Mississippi River. Sadly, when the wake of another boat washed over him, one of his crew members was going to move some equipment and was just gone for a minute and he came back and he couldn't find Jeff. Several days later, someone found his body and his death was ruled a tragic accident. It wasn't an overdose. It wasn't suicide. It just happened that way. And it caused reverberations around the music industry and the world, from bands far and wide and musicians far and wide, he had such an incredible impact. If you sit down and listen to his live album, Live at Sin-e,  what you're going to hear is such raw emotion, and such raw vulnerability. 

So what I'm hoping is that you can turn it on and turn it up and think about the people in your life to whom you have said the last goodbye. But think about those that you can still say the last Hello to. You can mourn and you can grieve. There is mourning, but joy and dancing will come soon enough. And thank you to Jeff Buckley for his legacy, the beauty of the music. And thank you for giving me a last Hello because you're still here listening right? And to all of you I want to say this is Elaina with the “Your '90s Are Showing” podcast. As always, thanks for going down the waterslide with me. Until next time, don't forget to shine bright!