Slowing the cycle
Standing out in a world of microtrends and overconsumption
Sarah Kennel
Caitlin Dominski
Nowadays, shopping at the thrift store feels like visiting a graveyard for fast fashion. Finding vintage pieces or quality secondhand clothing requires flipping through hangers and hangers full of Shein and Romwe items.
Meanwhile, scrolling through TikTok can feel like watching the birth of this overconsumption. Influencers lug big boxes full of Shein items – a site where consumers can buy extremely cheap new styles – dumping bags of clothes on their floor as they prepare to show viewers their haul. One can’t help but wonder where these pieces will end up in five years and how they will impact the shopping habits of their hundreds of thousands of viewers.
Upon a trip to the Oxford Goodwill, it was apparent that similar pieces had already ended up there. Flicking through the racks was already difficult due to the sheer amount of clothing squeezed on.
Although I left with a few good finds and quality sweaters for the fall, I found Shein, FashionNova and Zara along the way – all of which were items reflecting very recent styles. Colorful striped shirts I remember seeing in abundance in 2019, collared baby tees that took off in 2020 and dainty florals were all present.
Many of these trends were ones I used to participate in. As I’ve moved toward building my own style and thrifting many of my clothes, I have understood why these trends would quickly become so unappealing to myself and others – the fashion cycle and sequence of early to late adopters has sped up to unprecedented levels as social media pushes rapid trends.
An early adopter is someone who invests in trends near the beginning. It then reaches general audiences and moves to late adopters – or people who catch on to the trend late. Increased communication speeds associated with social media allow influencers to act as early adopters who can pump out new trends to general audiences and late adopters, making trends reach the obsolescence stage faster.
Not only are trends becoming more rapid, but they are becoming more abundant. The volume of information that can be accessed by our generation on social media is unlike any other. Platforms such as TikTok and Instagram feature infinite scroll models. No matter how much you scroll, there is always more to watch, more to consume. TikTok has even opened a shop feature within the app, where content creators can link and review cheap items purchased from the shop.
People are no longer satisfied with their clothes in the long run because there are endless trends to buy into, and an infinite audience to push the piece out of style.
I once purchased a jacket from Goodwill – a plain brown sweatshirt zip-up with Renaissance-style art in a darker brown. When I arrived home to wash it, I noticed the Shein tag on the back. I shrugged it off and threw it in the dryer, because who cares? I liked it, and secondhand is secondhand.
No less than two days later, I saw it featured in a TikTok video as an “overconsumption staple.”
I bit the bullet for a while and wore the jacket anyway, but when I did wear it, I couldn’t help but wonder how people perceived it. Now it seems overconsumption itself is becoming uncool.
However, instead of combating overconsumption, the fear of judgment for following microtrends has made the problem worse, causing people to toss pieces when they become popular. The trend of quickly discarding popular items for a new version can also be seen outside clothing, a good example being reusable water bottles.
In 2019, Hydroflasks were all the rage. Every store had them, and every class would be interrupted by at least one of the sticker-covered stainless steel bottles clanking onto the ground. However, they soon became associated with the infamous VSCO girl microtrend, becoming more of a meme than a regular reusable water bottle.
But the trendy water bottle trope doesn’t end there. The rise in popularity of Stanley tumblers has been a similar process. Different colors and special editions become pieces in many consumer collections. On Valentine's Day, consumers stormed Targets in a frenzy, trying to get their hands on one of the special red and pink Stanleys before they sold out. According to Country Living Magazine, this happened within minutes.
This has been exaggerated by the addition of Stanley straw charms and mini bags that can be strapped across the tumbler, as well as influencers posting their multi-colored collections. The cup is even associated with its own “preppy girl” microtrend. Although I never participated in the Stanley trend, I have to admit it’s partially because of the cup’s reputation as a poster child for overconsumption.
These niche styles, which ebb and flow and are often associated with specific clothing items, have been innumerable in the past five years. These microtrends also push articles of clothing into a box and quickly force them to be seen with certain connotations or in a negative and time-specific light. “Trend predictors” on TikTok have even claimed that something as simple as bows will soon go out of style due to the oversaturation of the “coquette” style.
An article by NBC, “Microtrends are killing personal style and making shopping a nightmare,” echoes this sentiment. It says that consumers are simply unable to keep up with these quickly rotating trends, making shopping frustrating and feeling confident in an outfit nearly impossible. As brands seek to profit from these trends by recreating whatever is popular online, personal style takes a hit.
Styles of clothing become specific to certain time periods rather than someone’s own unique taste. An outfit that was popular in 2020 could be easily picked out. Consumers might look at it and cringe because it seems so out of style from today’s popular clothing. However, that was just four years ago.
Interestingly, the main way that people online have combated this trend is by commodifying it into the opposite: “underconsumption core.” It has become a trend for people to promote how eco-friendly or disconnected from consumerism they are by posting specific objects or lack thereof online. However, a concern with this attempt is that it pushes underconsumption as an aesthetic rather than a genuine movement or philosophy.
But, there’s reason to think real change can be made. Despite the concerning trends of fast fashion and overconsumption, I see the thrift store as a place of rebirth as much as I see it as a graveyard.
When people ask me where I get my clothes, the answer is usually someplace secondhand – and the reaction is almost always positive. I often hear that others love thrifting just as much as I do, and visiting secondhand stores far and wide has become a common way for me to bond and spend time with friends. The idea that more and more people are having fun giving clothes a new life fills me with optimism.
I’ve found that filling my wardrobe with a foundation of basics – a few skirts I love, my favorite pair of jeans, black tights and a few plain black and white tops – allows me to branch out and compliment these pieces with more stylized secondhand items. Layering up is another easy way to combine these basics with fun secondhand pieces. I find myself waiting for winter to come around so that I can pull out my mom’s old leather jacket and my collection of thrifted coats.
Finding ways to accessorize also allows me to make an outfit feel interesting without relying on microtrends. My friends know that I love plaid headbands, chunky white socks with Doc Martens and layered silver necklaces. The only feeling that beats being trendy is finding a style that is uniquely yours. Shopping with a friend who can grab something off the shelf and know without question that you’ll love it is always a moment I enjoy.
Not being afraid to experiment with outfits and curate our own unique styles is a way for us to turn our backs on fast fashion trends, and invest in pieces that will stay in our wardrobe – not our landfills – for years to come.
