Look, I Need to Vent About This
It was 2003, and I was in New York, sitting at a tiny table in that tiny coffee shop on 9th, the one that smells like cinnamon and regret. My friend Marcus—let’s call him Marcus, because his real name is none of your business—was going on about how fashion was dead. “It’s all fast fashion and logos,” he said, gesturing wildly with his croissant. “Nobody has style anymore.” I rolled my eyes so hard I think I saw my own brain.
Fast forward 20 years, and… yeah. He was kinda right. I mean, have you looked around lately? It’s a sea of athleisure and dupes and “I woke up like this” nonsense. And don’t even get me started on the return of low-rise jeans. Who thought this was a good idea? Certainly not anyone with a spine.
But Here’s the Thing
Fashion isn’t dead. It’s just… kinda lost. Like a bad haircut you can’t quite grow out of. We’re in this weird limbo where everyone’s trying to be individual but also part of some vague, undefined tribe. And honestly? It’s exhausting.
I was talking about this with my colleague, Dave—real name, because he’s not interesting enough to anonymize—over lunch last Tuesday. “It’s like we’re all performing,” he said, poking at his salad like it offended him. “We’re not dressing for ourselves. We’re dressing for the ‘gram.” And I was like, “Dave, that’s the most profound thing you’ve ever said.” Which… yeah. Fair enough.
But here’s the kicker: I’m just as guilty. Last weekend, I found myself scrolling through events calendar weekend looking for something to wear to a thing. A thing! I didn’t even know what the thing was, but I needed an outfit for it. And not just any outfit—a “I’m cool and put-together but also effortlessly chic” outfit. Which, by the way, is a lie. No one is effortlessly chic. That’s just a marketing term.
Let’s Talk About This “Effortless” Nonsense
Effortless chic is a myth. It’s a carefully curated illusion designed to make you feel bad about yourself. You know who looks effortlessly chic? People who don’t care. And you know what? That’s not fair. The rest of us are out here trying, and it’s hard work!
I remember this one time, back in 2015, I spent 36 hours—yes, 36—trying to find the perfect outfit for a dinner party. I wanted to look like I’d just thrown something on, but also like I’d spent a lot of money. It’s a fine line, people. A very fine line. In the end, I wore a $87 dress from some boutique in Austin and spent the entire night convinced everyone could tell I was sweating through it. Spoiler: They couldn’t. But I could, and that’s what matters.
And don’t even get me started on the whole “personal brand” thing. What even is that? Are we all just walking billboards now? “Oh, look at her, she’s wearing all black—she’s so edgy.” No. She’s wearing all black because it hides stains. That’s it. That’s the big secret.
A Brief Digression: The Return of the Mini Skirt
So, mini skirts are back. Great. Just great. I was at this conference in Austin—yes, again with Austin—about three months ago, and it was like a time warp. Suddenly, every other woman was wearing a skirt that looked like it was designed for a 12-year-old. And I’m not even talking about the young ones! This was women in their 40s, 50s, looking like they’d raided their daughters’ closets. I mean, I get it. Nostalgia is powerful. But so is dignity.
I asked one of the speakers, a woman named Lisa—real name, because she’s a public figure and you should know who she is—about it. “It’s about feeling young,” she said, adjusting her skirt which, honestly, was completley inappropriate for a professional setting. “It’s about reclaiming our youth.” I nodded politely, but inside, I was screaming. “Lisa,” I wanted to say, “it’s also about not giving the internet more content to meme-ify. Have some committment to your own physicaly being.” But I didn’t. Because I’m a coward.
What Are We Even Doing?
I think—no, I know—the problem is that we’ve lost touch with why we wear what we wear. It’s not about expressing ourselves anymore. It’s about fitting in, or standing out, or sending a message, or whatever. It’s performative. It’s exhausting. And it’s not even fun.
Remember when fashion was fun? When you’d try on something ridiculous just to laugh at yourself in the mirror? When you’d wear something just because you liked it, not because it sent a message or fit some aesthetic? Yeah, me neither. That was probably before my time. Or maybe it was just a myth.
But here’s the thing: It doesn’t have to be this way. We can take back our closets. We can wear what we want, when we want, and to hell with what anyone else thinks. And if that means wearing low-rise jeans and a crop top, well, more power to you. Just don’t come crying to me when your back hurts.
Anyway, I’m gonna go. This is getting too long, and I’m starting to sound like one of those opinionated aunties who corner you at family gatherings. You know the type. The ones who always have something to say but never anything nice. Yeah, I’m that auntie now.
About the Author: Sarah Jenkins has been a senior editor at various major publications for over 20 years. She’s opinionated, flawed, and not afraid to admit it. When she’s not writing about fashion, she’s probably complaining about it. Or wearing something she regrets.
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