In a world shaped by curated feeds and algorithmic taste-making, being “aesthetic” has become more than a personal preference: it’s social currency. But behind the polished photos and dreamy palettes lies a truth we rarely confront, that aesthetic trends are not natural. In fact, they are built on class expectations, demographic biases, and a narrow vision of who is considered visually appealing.
On social media, the idea of being aesthetic is marketed as universally attainable. In reality, most popular aesthetics, whether “clean girl,” “cottagecore,” or “old-money”, all require financial resources that provide access to specific spaces (both online and in person) and products that help create the complete look. The look of effortless beauty is never effortless. Instead, it is often the product of a curated aesthetic that caters to what viewers see as “cool” in the moment. These carefully staged moments are presented as simple lifestyle choices, but they are actually just markers of class performance disguised behind a shield of minimalism and authenticity. With every product shown, or every interior perfectly displayed (down to the fresh, beautiful assortment of peonies on the kitchen counter), it all comes down to a calculated move that illicitly brags about access to stability, comfort, and disposable income. What we may interpret as “taste” is often just the echo of demographic privilege.
Ultimately, aesthetic culture mirrors larger societal hierarchies. To be aesthetic is frequently to signal class position, even if unintentionally. It is a privilege to maintain a lifestyle dictated by displays that appeal to the public gaze. The pressure to maintain a perfectly styled life turns self-expression into a performance, and creativity into consumption, and the individual ultimately into a business.
If aesthetic trends are to become more inclusive, we must challenge the assumptions beneath them. Being aesthetic should not depend on wealth or social background. Many years ago, creators like Tana Mongeau and the infamous ‘dirty room door’ were popular. I would argue people didn’t seem to care about looking a certain way on the internet; they just wanted a place to entertain others. Perhaps, maybe one day, aesthetic trends may revert to authenticity and genuine creative expression, if we allow it to.