One of my favorite things about going to college in a city is walking around campus and spotting such a wide variety of fashion archetypes. Of course, there will always be the latest trendy item that half the student population seems to own, and I am far from the last person to be caught wearing something on-trend. Still, I find it satisfying to see someone dress in a way that feels true to themselves—when their hair, accessories, outfit, personality, and even hobbies all just…make sense. Am I making sense?
On one hand, I don’t think anyone should do or wear something just because it’s trendy. A revolving door of microtrends in our wardrobes is exactly why thrift stores are overrun with out-of-style Shein and other fast-fashion pieces. I can say that with confidence because I once contributed to the problem. At the same time, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with enjoying a trend. Liking something popular, like Pilates or matcha, doesn’t make someone inauthentic. And, let’s be real, that discourse is often rooted in misogyny.
At the same time, when you like something that isn’t stereotypically girly, you can just as easily be called a “pick-me.” We can never win! Only four months ago, the movie Obsession came out, and the internet became infatuated with lead actress Inde Navarrette and her effortlessly cool image. In an interview that recently went viral, she was asked why someone should date her, and she responded that she drives a stick shift, drinks beer, smokes cigarettes, and plays pool. Suddenly, she became the subject of online scrutiny, with people accusing her of pandering to a male audience. So, as women, we’re expected to be feminine, but not too feminine, and different, but not too different?
This is where my interpretation of the “cool girl” comes in. To me, a true cool girl is someone who doesn’t take society’s impossible standards into consideration. She has an eye for secondhand clothing, is unapologetic about her hyperspecific interests, and knows all the local hidden gems. But lately, I’ve started wondering whether even this kind of authenticity has become a marketable aesthetic. If “coquette” was the commodification of femininity, “cool girl” is the commodification of authenticity—which is a bit of an oxymoron.
The internet has made it increasingly difficult to distinguish between having a personal style and performing one. Nowadays, I find it hard to open social media without seeing links to “chic Amazon finds” and “5 things worth your money.” Almost every trend seems to come with a shopping list attached. Even the latest take on “whimsy” was born from Kylie Jenner sticking gemstones onto her birthday cake, and suddenly everyone is bedazzling face masks and other single-use items that will end up in the trash. Once again, I don’t think it’s inherently harmful to participate in a trend if you genuinely enjoy it, but it’s alarming when something could be passed off as the plot of a Black Mirror episode. It reminds me of being a kid and my mom asking me, “If so-and-so wore a trash bag, would you wear one too?”
Celebrity “It Girls” are not a new phenomenon by any means, and I’m sure the masses have always looked to proclaimed “fashion icons” for the 411 on the latest trends. However, contemporary internet culture has made it easier than ever to replicate exact outfits within minutes. Through all of this, I think it is important that we ask ourselves why we want to invest in the latest trend—is it because we actually enjoy it, or because we want to portray ourselves in a certain way for the approval of others? In any case, I think that what looks best on someone is their own personal style, not the carefully curated version of themselves they think people want to see.