When Your Personal Style Becomes Internet Fodder
Wearing micro trends before and after they became micro trends.
If you’re as chronically online as the average bear, micro trends are a concept that needs little introduction. Love them or hate them, there is no denying their grip on culture and identity in an age where mass fashion is so starved of innovation that everything is just a reference of a reference of a reference.
The onslaught of micro trends has pressured users to try and define their personal style on TikTok. Yet to me, everything still feels like a micro trend. What the algorithm has been pushing on me as “personal style” all summer appeared to follow the same formula for a “Cool Girl Uniform” of awkward-length bottoms (e.g. jorts, capri pants, boxer shorts, or hot pants) + a “nice” top (e.g. front-tie blouses, football jerseys, or graphic T-shirts) + colored sneakers (e.g. adidas Sambas, Spezials, Gazelles or Onitsuka Tigers) + playful accessories (e.g. bag charms, oversized scrunchies or headscarves over baseball caps).
Did anyone else’s feed look like this?
I’ve been thinking about the people who have long embraced certain aesthetics in a pre-social media world. How have they felt when elements of their tried-and-trusted wardrobe are repackaged and promoted to death before we move on to the next big thing? For this, I decided to enlist some outside help from my sexiest friend (no, it’s not Joel), Mija aka @tonkss.hot.mum.
How Did We Get Here?
Before I transcribe parts of my wine-soaked conversation with Mija, a bit about micro trend culture. Trends traditionally ran in six-month cycles in line with seasonality. Fast fashion and algorithms have thrust everything into light speed and trends are emerging and burning out faster than ever before (though I’d argue several have become exceedingly long-tailed - for how much longer must we endure Y2K fashion?).
“Micro trend: a short-lived trend influenced by social media” -
Urban Dictionary
Kyle Chayka's book Filterworld: How Algorithms Flattened Culture describes how social media has seeped into everyday life, giving rise to a monoculture. As algorithms prioritize popular and easily digestible content, anything niche, complex, or challenging is often buried, stifling innovation from artists and creators who refuse to fit these parameters. This has fueled the uniformity in how we dress as our For You pages are bombarded with aesthetics bearing cute names like Strawberry Girl, Coastal Cowgirl, or Office Siren.
“Core” aesthetics go back to the OG Normcore, which was coined in 2008 in a report by K-Hole in Youth Mode: A Report on Freedom to describe the anti-trend of “liberation in not wanting to be exceptional” and has since been watered down to basically mean dressing like Jerry Seinfeld. Then, the pandemic gave us Cottagecore and pretty soon, you could put “core” or “girl” at the end of anything and make it a trend.
Just some of the subcultures I have written about in my career include Softcore, Tenniscore, Blokecore, Balletcore, Bikercore, Mermaidcore, Sirencore, Opiumcore, Gorpcore, Corpcore, Cabincore, Bloomcore, Clowncore, Coconut Girl, Cherry Girl, That Girl, Tween Girl, Tomato Girl, Geek Girl, Library Girl and Horse Girl. If you don’t follow fashion, I certainly wouldn’t blame you for thinking I’m taking the piss.
The terrific Substack In Case of Doubt introduced me to the word Hordiculture, which is described as “collecting so much junk there are piles of random shit cluttering everywhere possible and then claiming it’s a cultural trend.” I think that perfectly sums up the current state of fashion. The planet is heaving with unused garments, and we’re so desperate to create culture within the flattened landscape that we’re frantically categorizing and labeling aesthetics to drive views, clicks, and likes. All these products and all these trends. And we’re still dressed the same.
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Mob Wife Dressing Before, During and After Going Viral
I certainly didn’t coin or start the Mob Wife aesthetic that took over early in 2024 (that was another Kayla). However, the descriptor has long been in my vocab, as I’ve affectionately referred to my good friend and fellow Aries as ‘Mob Wife Mija’ for years.
Mija has always dressed the most extra out of anyone I know IRL, and in the ten-plus years of our friendship, her commitment to OTT maximalism, leopard print, sequins, and big titty energy has never wavered. A few weeks back, we sat down with some wine, vapes and Shaggy’s pizza to talk about experiencing your personal style go viral. I’m replaying the voice note and cringing at the sound of my stupid voice and vocal fry to bring you the following thoughts:
“Fuck yeah, it’s my time to shine” was her initial reaction when the Mob Wife trend blew up on TikTok as she anticipated several new animal print styles to add to the Fran Fine-esque wardrobe that she’d been curating since her teens. “You feel like you have the authority on the trend as it’s your style. Even though I’m not the only person to ever dress like this. But then, once it died down, I wondered, am I back to being tacky, gaudy, and over-the-top? Am I not cool anymore? Am I too much?.”
This sentiment is certainly the case with maximalist aesthetics. The media often portrays trends as fashionable based on who wears them, with items gaining popularity after being embraced by the ultra-wealthy or celebrities adhering to specific beauty norms.
Polyester Zine’s article Mob Wife Glamour: Gorgeous or Gaudy? speaks to the phenomenon of leopard print, fur coats, and statement gold jewelry dismissed as "tacky" or an attempt to flaunt wealth when worn by the working class or those from new money. Played out on screen or in popular culture, Jackie O's leopard print coat and Miranda Priestly's fur in The Devil Wears Prada are deemed elegant and chic. When the women of The Sopranos wore similar items, they were viewed as "cheap" or "trashy," negatively reinforcing stereotypes of Italian-American women in New Jersey.
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This brought us to the million-dollar question - was the Mob Wife Aesthetic an industry plant to promote The Sopranos 25th anniversary? At this point in the conversation, Mija and I veered off-topic to lament the passing of James Gandolfini and try and pinpoint the weird sex appeal behind Tony Soprano (is it the robe? the ducks? that he never had the makings of a varsity athlete?) before deciding HBO was given way too much credit for the trend.
Pop culture plays an undeniable role in propelling an aesthetic to viral status (just look at Brat Summer), though we also need to consider the knee-jerk reaction once a trend reaches overexposure. "Stealth Wealth" and "Quiet Luxury" practically steamrolled over everything in 2023 (Mija makes a disgusted face and says “can’t relate”), creating demand for OTT glamor, which the Mob Wife aesthetic personifies. Plus, it was winter. Until global warming fully kicks in, we aren’t ever going to stop seeing faux fur coats in winter.
I’ve previously mentioned Enclothed Cognition, which describes how fashion choices make us feel. Mija tells me about the in-built confidence the Mob Wife aesthetic and maximalism have afforded her. “It’s a mindset shift. Why would I be wearing navy, camel, pinstripes, and muted tones when I could feel like a fierce bitch wearing a fantastic coat, head-to-toe leopard print, heaps of gold, and big gaudy jewels?”.
However, she recognizes the upkeep and that fashion changes with moods. “That’s the thing with micro trends - no one is dressing like this 24/7 despite what they put out on social media. I’m not wearing cute pink velour tracksuits around the house like Carmela Soprano. Sure, I own them, but they’re not as comfortable as leggings and an oversized T-shirt. That’s what I’m wearing to the shops.”
While micro trends lend to disposable fashion and homogenous dressing, they do allow us the freedom to experiment. Personal style isn’t static and isn’t something you should have nailed by a certain time in your life.
Mija agrees, though maximalism is hard-wired into her psyche: “Because of my ADHD, my brain is so chaotic. I don’t feel at peace when I’m in a bare, minimal environment; I feel on edge or like I don’t belong. Same with fashion. I’m like a magpie, I collect shiny stuff, and wearing it all with faux fur, hot pink, and leopard makes me feel human and like myself.”
“There will always be those [Mob Wife] elements in my style, though your fashion evolves and changes as you go through life. Will I stop wearing leopard print? No way in hell. And I’ve always loved a big statement coat. But certain things may change; I might not want to wear skin-tight clothes when I’m 80.”
“As you get older, you discover more of your sense of style, though I think it will take younger generations a lot longer. As we’re posting more of what we wear every day, we are more subjected to being judged and critiqued. So kids will try and fit into every trend to please their followers, chasing that validation. I have no doubt that people think the Mob Wife aesthetic is dated or that I look tacky. But I’m not trying to please anyone.”
really interesting!! I’m all about wearing what resonates with you once you investigate why you’re drawn to a certain piece (i.e. is it trendy or is it just Bella Hadid/your favorite new influencer hopping on the bandwagon?), but this was very thoughtful! I really like what you said regarding personal style being just a sort of altered uniform at this point as well, especially with the emergence of bag charms from the same brands covering the same damn City Bag. great work!!
to be honest, I don't think the aesthetic of their personal style *becoming a trend* is what puts people off so much as encountering specific later adopters they find off-putting, you know? at least that's how I experienced it. There are definitely celebs whose adoption of styles I love would cause me to put it on ice until there's no more risk of a possible association, and I'm not apologising for that. Oddly this does not happen with off-putting later adopters I encounter in real life, in that case I just carry on.
Substack 'pray for your fashion sins' rhetoric would have us believe that thinking 'X ruined [style] for me' is just snobbery, we should unpack biases etc and sure, but the fashion version of 'the ick' is no less real for not being textbook rational (and often for us little people, it comes from people who are far richer/more famous than we'll ever be). And of course some aspects of our style are foundational and remain constant no matter who else picks them up, like Mija with her love of animal print, but even changing in response to something else, is a push towards evolution in a way.