I was on TikTok the other night, on my (regrettably) daily doom scroll before bed. Images of women in bootleg jeans, cowboy boots, chunky belts, fluffy hair with curtain bangs, and their hands holding joints popped up on my feed. Dreams by Fleetwood Mac was playing in the background, capturing the stereotypical Woodstock aesthetic in all its idealistic glory. The caption read “2025 is the return of ‘75 boho chic! Xx”.
Now, as someone who has been a fiend for boho chic style since I was fourteen years old, I was blown away by the out-of-the-blue switch-up of the recycled love of the style. But, from what I’ve seen so far, 2025 is the year of ‘70s boho stoner, ‘90s heroin chic, ‘50s trad-wife modesty, and the 2000s pop star style. Frankly, I’m confused.
I typically don’t follow micro-trends, but this feels deeper than your typical ‘leopard-print, rock star girlfriend aesthetic’ or ‘yearning fairy cottage-core’. This is a romanticisation of nostalgia. It is a longing for something that is not now. It is a craving for culture, while overlooking the fact we, a lot of the time, have not lived them. There is no longer a craving to be ‘original’, only to have a specific style to follow. My question is, where do we draw the line on the revival of fashion eras, and did they ever even die?
‘Originality’ is a contentious concept. The idea of something being completely unique is a thought that isn’t comprehensible. Everything that we talk about, design, ‘innovate’, wear, write about, and so forth, is influenced by something long before our time. The way we speak is influenced by what we hear in our surroundings. The way we write is an elongated paraphrase of texts we’ve read over the years. The music we create is based on the time signatures and chord progressions we’ve heard from our favourite bands. The clothes we wear are based on the aesthetic or culture scene we long to be part of.
I wonder, has any fashion that’s on the mannequins of Glassons or Supré, appeared in ubiquitous Zara ads, or even earned a mention in Vogue since our birth in the early 2000s, truly been new? Or has it simply been a repetition of reinvention of the visionary designs from the 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s? Were the true creatives those back then, or were they themselves also feeding off the scraps of the ones who came before?
Fashion follows the ‘20 year rule’ where it (without fail) repeats itself every 20 years. We wear it to death, we get sick of it, and then 20 years later we love it again. The oh-so-audacious mini skirts of the 1960s were brought back by designers like Vivienne Westwood in the 1980s, often paired with high-waisted and exaggerated silhouettes. The double denim look, introduced in the 1980s, was revived as the ‘Canadian Tuxedo’ in the 2000s, particularly as part of streetwear and club culture with brands like Von Dutch leading the charge. Even now, double denim is still making waves, with Kendrick Lamar rocking it at the Super Bowl and me sporting a barely breathable denim corset and jorts at a Potts Point restaurant last week.
There are the lacy slip dresses, oversized grandpa blazers, and retro flared jeans from the 80s and 90s that resurrected in the 2010s. These pieces have become staples in most stores, with celebrities like Nicole Kidman — who’ve lived through these trends — frequently rocking the sexy business casual and elegant slip dress look on the red carpet, at both the start of her career and today. The only difference now is that they’re being produced at a speed incomprehensible to the pre-2000s mind. Add in some microplastics and countless sweatshops, and you have modern fashion.
From pinterest boards full of outfit ideas with a section of where to buy similar items, to get-ready-with-me TikTok videos, we have an array of content to completely redesign ourselves. Having access to such a broad spectrum of different styles has become a detriment to the visionaries that we, as humans, once were. The ability to put together an outfit, or choose an accessory, or have a personal style, has become a limited skill. We have an unlimited shopping list at the touch of a phone screen.
The fashion industry has a long history of cyclical habits, of having older trends reappear and putting a somewhat new flair on it. Fashion was once respected as a form of art, a form of expression and culture. Now, it is viewed less as an expression of the self, and more an expression of how in tune with digital culture you are. Fast fashion has become a critical disruption in the fashion industry. It ensures that these consumeristic micro-trends are able to reach and profit from all socio-economic classes. Think about it: your friend is raving about the concert of a new rock band and you want to be the most rock-looking person there. Just type up: *band name* aesthetic outfit. Then, jump onto an extremely exploitative website, pick the pieces you need, and pay an extra $15 for next day delivery. You’re definitely going to stand out in the crowd! If you want a specific aesthetic, you can get it in a few clicks (bonus points if you run into free delivery!) It truly doesn’t take much to be exactly who you want to pretend to be.
You will never truly be ‘original’, but you can be authentic. Authenticity isn’t your vibe or aesthetic. Authenticity isn’t the music you force yourself to listen to because you think it makes you ‘different’. Authenticity is about finding your own vision, and being the living entity of that vision. It’s about being unapologetic; it’s about being the embodiment of chaos, or structure (if that’s more your thing). You should allow yourself to traverse through the different eras, rather than sticking to one for fear of being seen for who you are.
Micro-trends feed off the fear of the consumers. The fear of not being enough, or being too much. The fear of being cool, or not being cool. The fear of being an individual, or being a collective. The fear of things never being the way they once were, or staying the same forever.
Micro-trends thrive on contradiction. The way to beat it is to be certain in who you are. Find out who that is, and run with it.
