They taught us about beauty, crushes, fashion, and more.
Before Google could answer every burning question with a few keystrokes, before TikTok tutorials and Instagram influencers existed to guide us through the chaos of adolescence, there was another, far more glamorous oracle: the ’80s teen magazine.
If you were a teenager in that glorious, neon-soaked decade, you know exactly what I’m talking about. These glossy, glittering pages were our Bibles, our therapists, and, let’s face it, our most trusted life coaches. Whether you were flipping through Seventeen, Teen Beat, Sassy, or the ever-iconic Tiger Beat, those magazines held the answers to everything we didn’t want to ask our moms about—because, seriously, who wanted to discuss crushes, eyeliner, or love letters with a parent?
Every month, those sacred pages would arrive like a beacon of wisdom, promising to help us navigate the murky waters of high school, friendships, and first kisses. They didn’t just provide advice; they gave us hope, humor, and a heavy dose of sparkly optimism. Let’s dive into why ’80s teen magazines weren’t just entertainment—they were essential survival guides for a generation of Aqua Net-addicted dreamers.
First, let’s talk about the covers. Oh, those covers! They were visual masterpieces, with airbrushed pop stars and heartthrobs staring soulfully into our tween hearts. Kirk Cameron, Rob Lowe, and every member of Duran Duran were practically permanent fixtures, their perfect hair and dreamy smiles promising that you, too, could be worthy of this level of cool. And the cover lines? Pure poetry. “Find Your Perfect Spring Fling!” “Get Bangs Like Debbie Gibson!” “What His Favorite Movie Says About His Secret Feelings for You!” Each headline was a siren song, luring us into the depths of beauty tips, quizzes, and celebrity gossip.
And oh, the quizzes. Was there anything more thrilling than finding out, once and for all, if you were a “hopeless romantic” or a “total flirt”? Quizzes were the ultimate self-discovery tool. They promised to reveal your true personality, your perfect boyfriend, or how to decode that cryptic note your crush passed you in science class. Sure, the results were often wildly inaccurate, but who cared? In those moments, circling A, B, or C with your glitter pen, you felt like you were cracking the code to your own life.
Then there were the advice columns, written by mysterious “experts” who seemed to know everything. These unsung heroes tackled questions about bad hair days, mean girls, and that confusing first bra shopping experience with the wisdom of a hundred therapists and the sass of your favorite aunt. Their words made you feel seen, understood, and—most importantly—not alone.
But the advice didn’t stop there. The beauty tips were a treasure trove of knowledge, offering step-by-step guides to everything from perfecting blue eyeliner to teasing your bangs into a gravity-defying masterpiece. Were the tips practical? Sometimes. Were they fun? Always. Even if your smoky eye ended up looking more raccoon than rock star, you knew you were one step closer to the polished glamour of Pat Benatar.
Of course, the real magic of teen magazines wasn’t just in the beauty tutorials or the advice columns. It was in the way they made you feel like part of something bigger. They gave us glimpses into the lives of celebrities we worshipped, from candid interviews to “never-before-seen” photos of New Kids on the Block eating pizza (so relatable!). These spreads made us believe that even the most untouchable stars were just like us—well, as long as you ignored the mansions and stylists.
And let’s not forget the posters. Those fold-out treasures were the currency of cool in any ’80s bedroom. Walls were plastered with glossy images of our favorite heartthrobs, each one carefully torn from the magazine and strategically placed to ensure maximum swoonage. Whether it was a grinning Ralph Macchio or a smoldering Johnny Depp, these posters weren’t just decoration; they were declarations of loyalty, fandom, and unshakable devotion.
Teen magazines also had an uncanny ability to make you believe in yourself, even when you were rocking braces and an unfortunate perm. Between the horoscopes predicting a romantic encounter in third period and the inspirational stories of “real girls” who achieved their dreams, every issue felt like a pep talk from your cooler, older sister. They told us we were beautiful, capable, and destined for greatness—so long as we followed their ten-step guide to perfect prom skin.
And let’s not forget the sheer joy of the classified-style sections, where readers sent in their poems, jokes, and even personal ads looking for pen pals. It was the analog version of a comment section, minus the trolls. These tiny glimpses into the lives of other teens made you feel connected to a world beyond your small-town high school.
But perhaps the most important thing teen magazines did for us was teach us how to dream. They weren’t just about clothes or makeup; they were about possibility. They made us believe we could date the cute boy, ace the algebra test, and someday walk the red carpet ourselves. They filled our heads with visions of neon leg warmers, MTV dance parties, and a future where anything was possible.
Of course, as adults, we can look back and laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of some of it. The hair tutorials that required an entire can of hairspray. The relationship advice that boiled down to “laugh at his jokes and wear a cute outfit.” The idea that owning a pink phone shaped like a pair of lips would instantly make you the coolest girl in school. But even now, there’s something undeniably magical about those glossy pages.
Because the truth is, teen magazines weren’t perfect, but they didn’t have to be. They were there when we needed them, offering a safe, sparkly escape from the awkwardness of growing up. They were our guides, our cheerleaders, and our window into a world where everything felt a little more fabulous.
And maybe, just maybe, they taught us the most important life lesson of all: that a little glitter, a lot of confidence, and the right shade of blue eyeshadow can get you through just about anything.
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by Heather Pierce
Heather Pierce is a writer, Gen X woman, and professional life-juggler who still knows all the words to “Don’t Stop Believin’.” When she’s not writing, she can be found binge-watching 80s movies and reminding her kids that she grew up without Wi-Fi—and survived.
