Escaping the Fashion Feedlot

The Rebound of "Personal Style", Reclaiming the Thrill of the Hunt, and a Generation Redefining Luxury

Get in sheeple; we’re going shopping!

Picture it: 2019. E-commerce is taking over the world, making it effortless to buy everything from socks to sofas without ever leaving your couch. Then COVID hits, and suddenly, online shopping isn’t just an option—it’s a necessity. With stores closed and nowhere to go, fast fashion and two-day shipping become survival tactics for the bored and restless. But it wasn’t just e-commerce that skyrocketed; TikTok rose alongside it, offering an addictive blend of distraction, creativity, and community during lockdown isolation.

As cabin fever set in, TikTok became the ultimate escape. Its raw, unfiltered chaos was a welcome break from the polished Instagram grids of the 2010s and endless Zoom calls that quickly lost their novelty. The platform’s egalitarian algorithm turned everyday users into influencers almost overnight, making it a cultural powerhouse. By mid-2020, it wasn’t just a place to pass the time—it was shaping trends and shifting industries. Brands quickly caught on, and by 2021, TikTok had become a powerful marketing tool, filled with sponsored content. Its commercial role in the digital landscape began to resemble its content juggernaut predecessors.  The eventual launch of TikTok Shop in 2023 cemented its transformation into a Frankenstein-ed, do-it-yourself QVC channel, further saturating our feeds with a constant stream of products.

This shift wasn’t just irritating; it was suffocating. The thrill of discovery evaporated, replaced by an endless cycle of sameness. By mid-2023, we’d had enough. The desire for authentic connection and individuality sparked a collective reset, and our obsession with personal style began to very imperfectly flourish. What else do you expect from wildflowers in the concrete*?

The Great Reset

Fast-forward to now, and I’ll spare you the bag charm discourse: people are rejecting algorithm-driven aesthetics and fleeting trends. Internet celebrity and luxury-brand-deal-darling Emma Chamberlain captured the sentiment perfectly, likening her previous fashion consumption habits to a "gluttonous pig" and backing up her desire to escape from the “fashion hamster wheel” by donating about 95% of her closet, leaving her only with items that she genuinely wears and loves. This sentiment aligns with the discourse explored in Mina Le's popular video essay, “Is Personal Style Dead?” Le reflects on the pressures of trend participation and the relief she found in adopting a more minimalist wardrobe—a system designed to make her mornings easier and her relationship with fashion simpler. As she aptly puts it, “Personal style is not literally dead, but the sentiment holds that originality and authenticity are hanging on by a thread in the face of algorithms and Pinterest boards shepherding us all into wearing the same regurgitated microtrends.” Ironically, the uniformity of social media style is giving way to "personal uniforms" that align more with personal habits and daily functionality than a pre-occupation with perception.

Take my boyfriend, for example, who matter-of-factly only wears black. He can be confidently dressed and out the door quite quickly, compared to an ex-boyfriend of mine who would notoriously make us late (and  a giant mess) when trying to style a uniquely expressive outfit. These practices are, IMHO, illustrative of two sides of the same coin. The attempt at rejecting trendiness has spurned the Authenticity War, which has split into two counter-movements: what I’m calling “minimalist ambivalence,” a low-dogma stance on minimalism as seen in Le’s approach (I have more thoughts on the rise of uniform and tailoring aesthetics being on the rise as a response - but that’s its own article, and I digress), and what Rian Phin calls "chaotic customization."

“Curation” is a word many early adopters of this mindset have been using in their online content - but it’s starting to hit saturation with this group, and many are rejecting this incessant infatuation with aesthetic uniqueness replacing it in the name of the luxury of living one’s life outside of the prison of perpetual perception - understanding style as a byproduct of life. This leads me to believe that mass adoption of curation is just around the corner … or maybe this movement lives and dies in the fashion-theory and personal style digital subculture.

But we are rethinking how we consume, what we value, and who we want to be. De-influencing and slow fashion are gaining traction, encouraging thoughtful curation over mindless consumption. Creators like Heather Hearst (@pigmami), Mandy Lee (@oldloserinbrooklyn), and Elysia Berman (@elsysiaberman) exemplify this shift. Hearst’s Substack and Instagram highlight her journey curating vintage finds on platforms like eBay, shifting from affiliate links to a more thoughtful approach to consumption. Mandy Lee, known for her sharp trend analyses, introduced a 75Hard-inspired personal style challenge to reworking existing wardrobes without making new purchases. Meanwhile, Elysia Berman’s candid reflections on shopping addiction recovery and her “no-buy year” resonate deeply, showcasing a commitment to mindful consumption and financial accountability. Her “project pan” approach—focusing on using up beauty products before buying more—has become a modern badge of honor for many, myself included (you can pry my eight-year-old tartlette eyeshadow palette from my cold dead hands). Collectively, their efforts emphasize rediscovering joy in the process—hunting for unique pieces, cherishing items with stories, rejecting the monotony, and enjoying the actual use and wear of items over time.

The Rise of the Hunter-Gatherer

Shopping, once an act of necessity or active leisure, has become too easy - sedentary, in fact. The endless scroll and one-click purchases lack substance. Today’s discerning (and increasingly class-conscious) shoppers want more: quality, narrative, and connection. Enter the modern hunter-gatherer: someone who finds delight in uncovering treasures at IYKYK expos, small lux pop-ups, vintage shops, or online resale platforms - anywhere that your purchase can flex your elite cultural participation outside of the social media machine. We have not escaped seeking social status through our purchases, but we are changing what defines a higher status in our purchases, perhaps a sign of fatigue from the “quiet luxury” boom (which is finally trending down, thank god, but I’m grateful for the discussions on class consciousness it thrust into *the zeitgeist*). Fashion’s most engaged, aspirational young shoppers with high lifetime promise now prioritize craftsmanship, intentionality, and signals of taste (a loaded word, I know).

Consumer and company needs are diverging faster and farther than ever. Conglomerates need to be careful. “Fundamentally, the myth of perpetual growth is irreconcilable with physics.” To be dramatic about it, the cancerous need for it as a metric in a business’s success will be its downfall. Many, myself included, are beginning to adhere to the “too broke to buy cheap shit” mindset, and they're not just talking about the price tag. Hermès’ artistic director and sixth-gen heir, Pierre-Alexis Dumas, says of their brand and bags in particular, “It’s not expensive, it’s costly. The cost is actual price of making an object properly with the required level of attention so you can have an object of quality. Expensive is a product which is not delivering what it’s supposed to deliver, but you’ve paid quite a large amount of money for it, and then it betrays you- that's expensive.” 

Sometimes, that goes for old mall brands too. Danielle Vermeer, founder and CEO of thrifting marketplace Teleport says that young consumers are increasingly determining quality based on materials used rather than based on brand-name. Today, you’re hard pressed to find anything that isn’t a polyblend inside your local mall, or even on the mid-tier floor of Bloomingdales. The struggle to find something made of 100% natural fibers was a pretty easy one to overcome just fifteen years ago.

Say what you want to about how much Hermès markups are, there is a certain exploitation of supply and demand consumers are willing to pay for, usually in the name of status- no matter how you try to spin it. Companies will eventually reach saturation of a client base or their churn will break even; it’s unlikely that they’ll move more products or increase sales even in a healthier economy, and cost-cutting was bound to happen, recession or no. 

*On the “Hermès and exploitation” note, because I waited too long to publish/spent two weeks trying to whittle this thing down: I will not be going into depth about the very recent discourse around the Walmart “Birkin”. However, I acknowledge the importance of the discourse around status, wealth, and emulation, especially in relation to shifting consumption habits. But I will say that those justifying the purchase of a low quality emulation by the masses isn’t the “gotcha” to the wealthy that they think it is. Say what you will about luxury margins, the counterfeit industry's copious human rights violations (which far exceed what is still somehow permissible in fast fashion and even luxury factories) cannot justify their consumption. The proliferation of fakes is also detrimental to the long-term viability of the second-hand market. Speaking of the resale market…

Second-hand shopping is on the up. ThredUp’s 2024 report  predicts the U.S. resale market will hit $70 billion in two years. While affordability is a factor, it’s the individuality and sustainability of pre-loved items that resonate most with young consumers. Gone are the days of the thrift store "haul"; young consumers are now approaching second-hand shopping with a more curated and strategic mindset. Instead of weekly trips to Goodwill, they browse for hours and set up keyword alerts on platforms like The RealReal, Vestiaire Collective, and eBay for second-hand designer pieces that align with their values and aesthetics. These shoppers aren’t just interested in vintage - they’re sniffing out archival items. This shift reflects not only a desire for individuality but also the shifting behaviors in aspirational consumption. These platforms can serve as gateways for brands to engage with future direct shoppers willing to invest in quality and craftsmanship over time. Kering probably made the right call by investing in Vestiaire five years ago, an opportunity LVMH has snubbed quite a few times now. 

The Future of Fashion?

Looking ahead, I think it’s going to be a rude wake up call over the next few years for a lot of brands who try to stick to traditional, conservative (safe) strategies. The days of endless growth and disposable dopamine purchases are trending down. Literally - everyone appears to be bracing for recession. Brands that want to thrive need to learn to niche-down, lie in wait for their customer, and position themselves perfectly in the periphery  as the feast of choice when their hunter is ready to pull the trigger. While “The In-Store Treasure Hunter” is Gen X (according to GlobalData’s consumer survey), many of the adopters of this mindset that I have seen online have been Millennials, or even elder-Gen Z. 

But, they’ll need to meet us on our terms. All signs point to community engagement and focus on deepening existing relationships with the brand. They seek brands that offer not just high quality products but meaningful experiences. Strong-ties will be necessary for survival - and why go-to-"market”, when you can go-to-community. Strategic, intimate, out-of-home marketing opportunities, and reallocating budgets to brand elevation instead of reach are risks worth taking… that is if you understand the instagram-able, chaotic, pop-ups don’t cut it anymore. Consider participating in the consumers gathering stage, where leaning into organic content and pre-existing peripheral communities are very useful keys. Personally, I love how Tory Burch’s relationship with Mandy Lee has grown and often feels symbiotic - same with Heather Hearst and Tibi.

In a world where third spaces are dying, and “aesthetics” and “-cores” are rooted in virtual presence but have no participatory subcultures, retailers would be wise to embrace the in-person experience of the shopper, creating watering holes for their demographics. If you want to take that literally, designer food and beverage experiences live in the same world. “It shows there’s a growing sense that the interaction with the customer cannot only be generated with the product. You have to go beyond, you have to create intimacy and a more relatable experience” says Francois Souchet, managing director of advisory firm Swanstant.

Some brands are already stepping up. Telfar’s flagship store, for instance, invites customers to linger, even loiter, fostering a sense of community rather than urgency. It’s a refreshing departure from the high-pressure tactics of digital marketplaces. 

For Now …

Ultimately, this transformation is about reclamation of choice. Shopping doesn’t have to be a mindless transaction; it can be an intentional, fulfilling experience and many are making it a prerequisite to making a purchase. We’re trying to shift back into earning what we bring home, and brands actually earning the hard earned doubloons we give them. By moving away from the digital feedlot, embracing the thrill of discovery, the protective advantage of knowledge, the adrenaline of lying in wait, and remembering to touch some f*cking grass - we’re redefining what it means to engage with fashion and consumption as a whole—and it feels like a much-needed breath of fresh air.

Whether high-ranking-leadership at culture-defining-companies are willing to do something meaningful to follow suit, that’s their business… but I know where I’m interested in taking mine.