Microtrends aren’t Increasing, We’re Just Lowering our Tolerance: On Fast-Fashion, Individualism, and the Tiktok Generation

By Megan Ybarra | Photos by Olivia Mauldin |

Heidi Slimane’s SS21 menswear collection for Celine, titled “The Dancing Kid” as an homage to Tiktok’s impact on fashion and youth culture, sparked little conversation in the fashion sphere—they’d seen it before, off designer runways, and the collection felt like an older generation’s feeble attempt to seem “hip” for the kids. From collections at stores like Zara and ASOS, we’ve watched corporations jump through hoop after hoop in an attempt to keep up with the rapid-speed fast fashion vendors. 

These brands seem to come out of thin air, advertising on social media, and sending PR to influencers with whispers of “10% discount code in bio,” continuing their spawning at break-neck speed. The clothing is catered to young consumers, promising quality while selling pieces at a fraction of average prices—just cheap enough for a teenager with a part-time job to order and fulfill the aesthetics of their Pinterest-planned dreams. Unlike models in Milan toting the newest designer looks, this clothing feels accessible, perpetuated by Tiktok try-on hauls filmed with an iPhone, a messy room reminiscent of adolescence, and trendy audio.

It’s not just fashion trends—it’s everything. Whether it be the hair dye color you just have to try (usually some variation of blonde or brown, but we swear, it’s different!), or the “winter arc” of fitness encouraged by influencers filming themselves on the Stairmaster, these trends are rapid, nebulous, ruled by aesthetics, and fed to hungry consumers at the other end of the algorithm. The term “microtrend” has been used as a catch-all for these blips on the Internet, but the noun isn’t particularly new. In fact, the term itself is a trend, in a sense.

Microtrends are the “nephews” of megatrends and “children” of macro-trends. They are the most active, diverse and appearing rapidly. The list of microtrends is the most lengthy and diverse among the ‘trend’ categories, and that’s because they are the “solutions” that directly address consumers. (Global Trend Spotter, 2017).

Now, we’re witnessing the downfall of “the microtrend” and the subsequent scramble for individual style within the online landscape. Retail intelligence platform EDITED reports an oversaturation in the trend cycle—the generation most associated with the pandemic-born style-rapidity is tired. The rise of microtrend fashion, often called “Tiktok fashion,” can be greatly credited to the Covid-19 pandemic—runways and designer brand names could no longer set seasonal trends—fashion found a new home on the internet. However, now, we’re seeing Gen Z grapple with a search for individualism while maintaining trendiness; online experiences are losing the shine they once presented. 

According to EDITED, “74% of Gen Z is seeking out IRL experiences over digital, reflecting the shift away from buying viral items purely for content to emphasize pieces with offline IYKYK appeal,” hinting at a resurgence for a possible mall renaissance, or a reformation of the in-person shopping experience in the coming era. From Balenciaga chip bags to MSCHF’s astro-boy style boots, these briefly coveted online items are spawning in digital spaces less and less, which begs the new question of individualism: is trendiness out? British Vogue’s Julia Hobbe asserts so, noting that the period of rapid ‘cores’ popping up across Tiktok seems to have come to a close, and fashion publications are giving these digital starbursts less and less airtime. Tiktok is serving more as a style guide than an outright assignment of ‘must-have’ items.

This shift from cheap, fast items to individual style and mixing of identity alludes to a sphere of social omnivoriety. Where pandemic fashion once held a major distinction between the online-shopping kids and their high-fashion idols, now, the line is being blurred. Thanks to online accessibility, anyone can curate vintage pieces, and those searching for style are no longer encouraged to fit into a specific identity. Celebrities are wearing thrifted items, and broke college students are saving paychecks for vintage Isabel Morant sneakers—we’re in the Wild West. But to understand this lack of class distinction, one must understand what it means to be a cultural omnivore:

One of the key aspects of [Cultural Scholar Richard] Peterson's framework is the idea that cultural omnivorousness represents a shift away from traditional cultural hierarchies, in which high culture is privileged over low culture (Peterson, 1992). Herein lies a divergence from [Pierre] Bourdieu's perspective, however, a more detailed analysis on this matter will be presented subsequently. Peterson argues that omnivorous consumers are characterized by the aforementioned lack of distinction between high and low culture and are equally likely to consume both (Klára Mírova, 2023).

Thanks to the phone-tripod, LED light-owning, and oversaturated digital creators of recent years prior, there is the freedom, and encouragement, to consume all. However, whenever discussing trend cycling and digital consumption, one must note that there is no 100% guarantee in any social shift. The downfall of microtrends is barely a year in its toppling, and all we can do is sit back and watch thinly disguised dropshipping businesses online scramble for recognition, going to platforms like Instagram and Pinterest to present paid advertisements for their businesses: the ghost kitchens of clothing.

The benefit of microtrends shifting from clothing as a commodity to now being a lifestyle, an identity, benefits more than just your psyche (and your bank account). Fast fashion has consistently been linked to environmental degradation, exploitation of resources, and unethical business practices. Trust in these online shops has diminished as news consistently reports on packages arriving with damaged or low-quality goods, or even hazards (like living Chinese scorpions in your Shein package). The sites of production for these ready-made garments are often in hubs, like Bangladesh, where women and children are seen as the primary victims of these economies. Bangladesh “experienced rapid industrialization, enormous urbanization and massive digitalization, with serious environmental consequences resulting from the associated increases in consumption and waste and the use of energy and resources (Faroque and South, 2022: 3).” With over 4.2 million garment workers across 4,500 factories reported in the nation in 2019, these industries are disproportionately affecting low-income families in need, all to fund online shopping owned by CEOs that maintain a lifestyle as fast as their incoming styles.

“There is a saying among young girls in Bangladesh: ‘If you’re lucky

you’ll be a prostitute, if not, a worker in the garment industry’. … One of these girls is Anju, a garment factory worker in Bangladesh, who earns $900 a year, works twelve hours a day and skips meals because she cannot afford to buy food … Anju is also more exposed to the negative effects of climate change than those living in the Global North, to which the fashion industry … which produces 8% of all global greenhouse gas emissions … and one-fifth of global wastewater … contributes extensively. In another part of the world, in Spain, the CEO of the fashion conglomerate Inditex … works hard too and rarely takes a vacation. However, he owns a private plane in his backyard and has more than $60 billion in his bank account”(Simončič, 2021: 343).

Brands that perpetuate these late-stage capitalistic dynamics are being exposed through the same online platforms that once gave them their start—conscious shopping is the clear choice when even the U.S. Department of Labor has acknowledged the toxic workplace conditions and environmental concerns these businesses foster that come with such factory production lines.

The online (and now increasingly IRL) landscape of fashion and shopping is evolving as a reaction to this microtrend “overload.” Trends that were expected to rise to attention earlier in the year, like the “mob wife” aesthetic of fur coats and “old money” influence had gained little traction, surprisingly, indicating this plateau in ‘cores’ and exponentially reproducing aesthetics to fuel Pinterest boards and Tiktok style guides. Now, both the viewer and the influencer are in search of personality, and subsequent trend predictions will have to re-adapt to the possibility of subculture, mall-life, and individualism over all.