Hold on to your vintage T-shirts, folks. We have to talk about this whole kitsch nostalgia thing.

The first time I saw a pair of intentionally faded jeans back in the late 1990s, I was taken aback. I had the same reaction when the White Stripes came brought out their “new” classic rock. It was cool, but it was old. Cool and old. This dichotomy is something that permeates almost every avenue of our popular culture: the clothes we buy, the music we listen to and the furniture we put in our houses.

We love irony as a society. It’s why we laugh at Seinfeld and The Office. The gap between a joke’s intention and its consequences is what sets off your funny bone. When Michael Scott makes a derogatory remark that he thinks is funny, the awkward hilarity factor shoots through the roof.

It works the same way with clothing. Why do people wear clothing that looks older? It’s being used apart from its original context. A few years ago, I was pawing my way through a nasty thrift-store rack when I stumbled across a true gem. It was a soft pink shirt with a big red heart graphic on the front. Inside the heart was printed “Eddie and Margo, Valentine’s Day 1984.” It was the find of a lifetime, for sure. Eddie and Margo actually had to print shirts to herald their special day of unbridled passion. Unsettling?

Yes, but it’s also a great conversation piece.

We recycle old and ridiculous things, both from a sense of nostalgia and perhaps because we can’t think of anything new. That’s why 1980s-era styles are so celebrated right now. The grand proliferation of neon colors and tight pants is a way to remember our roots, although it looks ridiculous. What was once a hot fashion became reviled, then grew into a thrift store treasure and now has come back around. I unfortunately didn’t keep my Gotcha shirts in a rainbow of candy neons, nor my Hammer pants, which wouldn’t fit my grown-up frame.

The kitsch has a say in contemporary fashion and culture. But is it because we enjoy the look of things from a bygone time, or is it because we just can’t come up with anything of our own? For example, take something out of its cheesy context, like Miami Vice’s pastel turtlenecks under white blazers. Wear it with pride and a set of Ray-Bans, and you’re suddenly a fashion pioneer. What was once dated and obsolete is now pushing the boundary of fashion. Throw a term like “campy” toward it because that seems to be the only explanation.

A friend suggested that old things somehow become cool by passing them through some sort of invisible irony machine. An old velvet painting of two Cherokee lovers becomes funny in the right context, rather than eerily perverted. Cheap school chairs made in the 1960s look like Mod art pieces when placed in a hipster’s living room. Karate Kid and Rocky slogans are valuable statements on shirts, rather than emotional puffery in low-budget films. There’s a lot of leg-sweeping humor being printed on clothing. Do Americans enjoy imagining living in an age when martinis, moustaches and cigarettes were signs of good health and prosperity? I think we do, and it’s OK.

Just don’t go printing your own Valentine’s Day T-shirts with your significant other, because in 20 years, some thrift store shopper might be utterly disgusted.