What will the Millennials come for next?

Soap, cereal, suits, cars, postcards … they even hate milk. These ‘things of the past’ now seem destined for the younger generation’s dustbin.

‘The world as we know it is slipping away from us, almost imperceptibly.’

In crushing news, soap. Becoming a thing of the past. Devastating to soap aficionados among us, myself included, after a childhood of snuggling into flannelette sheets alongside a beautifully fragrant, softly powdered grandmother. Yes, the love of perfumed soaps is an old lady thing adopted way too young, along with fish on Friday and porridge. But those pesky Millennials have got it in for the humble bar. They think it’s unhygienic, apparently, and much prefer that weird stuff you squeeze out of a bottle. Which would be body wash. Which I have yet to master into any kind of a lather. But according to a report from financial news website MarketWatch, 60 per cent of adults aged 18 to 24 think soap bars become covered with germs after using them. Right.

Then there’s cereal. Another lifelong necessity fast receding. Please no. But Millennials have their sights on this one too because, well, that bowl thing is just too annoying. The New York Times reports that a surveyed 40 per cent of Millennials said that cereal “was an inconvenient breakfast choice, because they had to clean up after eating it”. Future forecasters also have their gimlet eyes on our kitchens, which may be getting smaller as less of us cook. Then there’s cars. Bit of a burden – and as my kids attest, there’s always public transport and Uber to pick up the slack.

Also on the slide: suits and napkins, because we’re loosening into a less formal world. As for ironing, who has the time any more – hanging the offending item in a steamy bathroom often does the trick. Doorbells are waning because guests are now texting on arrival. Canned tuna sales are dropping because of concern over overfishing in our oceans. And the traditional, throwaway plastic water bottle is on the out too, because, well, environment. Milk? Decreasing consumption, because of all the non-dairy alternatives on the market. And in a win for womanhood, stiletto sales are plunging because the eminently sensible Millennials are valuing comfort and practicality over exhaustion and torture.

Then there’s postcards. Killed by social media. Why bother handwriting a message to someone individually when you can send out a picture en masse? This one hurts. Recently I cleared away a floor-to-ceiling wall of photos and postcards; a history of a life gathered in cherished images. All the thankyous for dinner parties and stays, all the hellos across oceans and deserts. Images carefully chosen to reflect not so much the sender but the recipient. The beauty and generosity in that. There was such a grace in these cards, a noticing. “Saw this and thought of you …” Oh!

Who has time for any of this now? The dignity in the pause, the considered moment of reflection and gratitude. Now it’s a quick text or a private message on Insta with some emojis tossed in. Nothing to keep. But the blazing individuality in these scrawled messages. The messy hand exploding like a spider across the width of the card. The schoolgirl neatness that’s never broken away from its obedient teen cursive. The grandmother’s uneducated misspellings and odd sentence constructions, blaring nonchalant eccentricity.

All the postcards from other places, all the carefully chosen images directed personally, just to you. Oh yes, they’ll like this – you can feel the thinking behind the choice. The handwriting speaks, rushing people back through the individuality of their pen. The sound of their voice is aligned with their handwriting in a way that typed writing isn’t. So much history in there, so much love, passion and wonder. The world as we know it is slipping away from us, almost imperceptibly, but I’ll be keeping these treasured postcards – and stockpiling the old lady soaps like a doomsday prepper.