In the early 1990s, I went to a seminar about how to communicate with Generation X.

It seems weird in retrospect, not only because I am actually a member of X, a term popularised by Canadian writer Douglas Coupland.

Most of the lessons have faded with time, but I do remember the finale included an ostentatiously “grungy” bloke with long straight hair playing some Seattle-type rock on a guitar. At the end of his song, he raised a fist and unfurled his fingers to reveal an “X” drawn on his palm.

The idea of X began, ironically in retrospect, as the concept of a generation that didn’t want to be defined. Of course, the marketers took over, using the concept to try to sell stuff to people born between the mid-1960s and 1980 or thereabouts.

The idea that everyone everywhere born between certain dates have immutable characteristics is, of course, mostly nonsense.

In western countries, there were some common experiences though. The X generation grew up on an economic rollercoaster, in the midst of a technological revolution, the Cold War, and the AIDs epidemic, and in the aftermath of massive social change of the 1960s and ‘70s.

In the classic Gen X movie, 1994’s Reality Bites, the bewildered hero, Lelaina Pierce, played by Winona Ryder, summarises her generation’s ambivalence. In a graduation speech in the opening scenes, she skewers the Boomers, explaining it’s no wonder her generation “aren’t interested in the counterculture they invented, as if we did not see them disembowel their revolution for a pair of running shoes”.

She goes on: “But the question remains: What are we going to do now? How can we repair all the damage we inherited? Fellow graduates, the answer is simple. The answer is… The answer is, I don’t know.”

And the crowd cheers.

Just as the serious-minded Lelaina had her documentary film-making commodified and cut down for an MTV-like cable channel, Gen X was carried along by the inexorable forces of time. Dismissed as short attention-spanned and listless, Gen X is now a cliché of a different sort – hard-working, sandwiched between children and ageing parents. Responsible for everything.

The marketers continued to label generations with new letters and designations – the Ys and Zs and, now, they’re trying to make “Alpha” happen.

In Adelaide, governments are focused on the end of the generational alphabet, trying to work out how to attract and keep the younger generations here to feed what they hope will be a boom in defence, space and other high-tech industries.

As marketers do, their pitch is broad – an informed guess about what younger generations might want to be convinced to move here.

I wonder, though, whether the marketing pitch increasingly doesn’t match the state’s investment focus or behaviour.

Previous Premier Steven Marshall wanted to understand what might attract young professionals to Adelaide, taking his inspiration from a KPMG report on what it takes to be a “magnet city”.

The report examines once-struggling cities that have turned their economies around.

It was written pre-COVID, but it still seems broadly relevant. It makes the point that successful magnet cities have a “specific relationship” with the young wealth creators who choose to move there.

“Simply throwing up a start-up space and a couple of new apartment blocks will not draw new young people into a city that doesn’t offer anything else,” it says.

“A city’s point of attraction must be authentic. Simply contriving a new city identity is not sufficient; it must be based in truth or the heritage of the city.”

Young professionals in magnet cities want interesting places to live and visit, particularly in “urban cores or in neighbourhoods that are linked to the urban core by quick and easy public transport. The design and sustainability features of housing is as important as its location; many prefer to live in mixed-use neighbourhoods that contain restaurants, bars, shops, offices, research space and studios.”

The Labor Government’s evolution of the “magnet city” approach is slick and compelling. The “New State of Mind” campaign presents a city and state that is sustainable, welcoming and interesting.

This sort of marketing material about Adelaide often shows people riding bikes – sometimes without a required helmet.

It’s a small point but emblematic.

If we believe the marketing wisdom about the younger generations, there’s not much evidence that we’re building a city that will attract and keep them here.

Our public investment is still focused on roads and vehicle infrastructure, with a tiny budget for pedestrians and cyclists.

Our approach to city heritage – most starkly seen in the Crown & Anchor debacle – isn’t building on our history, culture and character. It’s often doing the opposite.

We need a strong economy, of course, to attract young professionals, but if we want them to stay, we need something that money can’t buy: authenticity.

Notes on Adelaide is a weekly column reflecting on the city, its strengths and its foibles. You can read more Notes on Adelaide in SALIFE’s print editions.