This past summer, I completed my most challenging and most anticipated hike yet: a six-mile loop with over 2,000 feet of elevation gain near Independence Pass in Colorado. I have lived around sea level in Missouri my entire life and unfortunately do not acclimate quickly to elevation change, so I was aware this trail would be difficult. However, I knew I would be able to savor the feeling of accomplishment after a tough hike for the rest of my trip.
I have gone on hikes with my family ever since I was a child; therefore, I know exactly what I should wear in order to feel comfortable. During this trip, I wore an old, light-pink high school cross-country t-shirt, black athletic shorts that I have owned since freshman year, hand-me-down hiking boots and a cooling headband that I bought from Recreational Equipment Inc. (REI) the night before.
I was decidedly not wearing “What the girls are wearing in the Dolomites” to hike.
My social media algorithm — which is thoroughly aware of my enjoyment of “outdoorsy” content — has recently shown me a barrage of posts regarding performance, consumerism and practicality in online outdoor culture. On one side, I am served highly-edited, aesthetically pleasing videos of hikers in coordinated outfits. These videos are captioned with statements like “What the girls are wearing in the Dolomites” or “Outfits the cool girls are wearing to hike!” advertising brand-new athleisure with links attached so they can be easily purchased.
The opposing view comes in the form of outdoor enthusiasts or influencers who have called out the fast-fashion mindset toward approaching the outdoors and the idea that you have to look or dress a certain way to experience nature. Often, these influencers also discuss the environmental effects of consumerism within this niche online culture. I tend to agree with them, specifically because the aforementioned aesthetic videos seem to manifest a barrier to the outdoors, trading experience for online performance and specific wardrobe requirements.
These creators talk about the emergence of “Gorpcore” in the online hiking space and how it has influenced those who consider themselves part of an outdoor community. In a British Vogue article, Gorpcore is described as a combination of a hiking expression about trail mix, “Good Ol’ Raisins and Peanuts,” and the growing popularity of practical outdoor gear as streetwear. The article shares that Gorpcore has evolved from a place of enthusiasm for the outdoors to an emblem of status and online performance. The Gorpcore aesthetic has been molded from a pursuit of functionality to a method of pressuring people to conform to a certain image in order to qualify as an enjoyer of the outdoors — contrary to a space in which style is not necessarily the primary focus.
In turn, influencers promote new clothing that becomes labeled as “essential” or necessary items for a simple hiking trip. What is essential at one point in time becomes irrelevant when newer items take its place six months later. In my opinion, the people who appear to innocently advertise aesthetic, practical gear are contributing to this culture of want and fast-fashion — the mass production and distribution of textiles — that works against the many sustainability practices that nature-lovers uphold.
The outdoor industry has its own overconsumption problem that is intrinsically linked to the emergence of Gorpcore and other microtrends. Outdoor Revival, a website and company that works to give used outdoor gear a second life, embellishes this idea, stating that “When we buy a new kit every season just to match a new aesthetic or save 50 grams on a backpack, we feed a supply chain that pollutes the very landscapes we love to explore.” The pressure to dress like “the girls in the Dolomites” or to have the latest tech, despite already owning useful items, furthers this cycle of unnecessary waste through buying and discarding.
It is frustrating to see people boast about their love of adventure and post videos of themselves outside online while simultaneously disregarding the sustainability practices that benefit their favorite places. In addition, there is the implication through this trend that you need to prove that you are enjoying yourself through specific clothing or photo-ops.
The Outdoor Revival suggests a few beneficial methods to slow down the collective overconsumption, such as buying second-hand, repairing what you already own and determining the true level of need for new items. Most of the time, what you need already exists.
On a smaller note, many micro-trends and Gorpcore styles are made in muted, monochromatic colors that contradict with well-known safety protocols. Many who spend time outside wear bright, even neon, clothing in the name of safety and potential rescue. Bright colors can help a rescue team spot a hurt or lost hiker from among the foliage, while newer athleisure can camouflage with a person’s surroundings, possibly leaving them in danger.
This is not to say that you can not, or should not, dress cute when hiking or enjoying the outdoors. I love planning fun outfits to hike in, and honestly, they give me a feeling of confidence. However, I find the online hiking culture that pressures people to conform to a certain style, or fit in with what “the girls,” a beloved, broad internet description I have yet to understand, are wearing, harmful.
People enjoy the outdoors recreationally because it disconnects them from the pressures of social media and everyday life, not because it reinforces those ideals.
You do not have to have the latest hiking shorts or trail-running shoes to exist in nature. You do not need a specific, high-tech backpack for a day trip because influencers online are saying you do. All you need is yourself, suitable clothing and gear that works for you. The experience of a hike, climb or swim will be far more memorable than what you wear.
When I eventually purchase new hiking gear, I might consider a pair of practical pink hiking pants. But for now, I will continue to hike in my college gear and decade-old athletic shorts because what really matters is my ability to move and have fun outdoors.
Nature does not care what you look like or what you own; it is there for you to experience.