2016 is Back - The Ramifications of a Collapsing Trend Cycle and our Collective Nostalgia
By: Claire Walczak
Flashing lights, clubbing in Converse, and Lady Gaga. Party in the 2010s? Or a 2010s party? Recently, college parties and internet posts have been buzzing about life ten years ago— but why are we so reminiscent of the not-so-distant past?
The accessibility of an online trend greatly impacts its adoption in real life. Price, modesty, supply, and style all play a large part in whether or not a person even considers partaking in a trend; if something is too expensive, revealing, hard to find, or ridiculous to wear to work or school, a potential customer might be less inclined to follow through with the purchase. Very few people actually keep up with all the current trends (although the few that do have earned the playful nickname “microtrend final boss” online). While an affluent, internet-savvy teenager might be able to participate in every fad during her everyday life, the college-aged girl who goes out twice a week may only find these items useful when getting dressed up. In the early 20s bubble, a going-out wardrobe can be a completely different, even costume-esque take on traditional night-out clothes.
College party themes include anything-but-clothes, toga, and, recently, the 2010s. In a practical sense, it’s logical to have parties where people can dress up using things from their current closets. But Gen Z isn’t known for being practical— I think a deeper psychological reason is a more damning culprit: nostalgia.
As the last pre-COVID era, the 2010s serve as a last memory of adolescence. Many now-college-aged students feel a stark difference in the divide between the decades, with recency bias only increasing the sentimentality toward the 2010s. Most of the people chronically online enough to participate in this trend are also old enough to remember life ten years ago; resurfacing slightly grainy, cringe-worthy pictures of your younger self are enough to send most people into a full-blown nostalgic fever. 2016 calls back to aesthetically pleasing niche memes, colorful filters, and a pre-AI-polluted internet. The 2020s have largely followed the twenty-year rule (the theory that says trends take roughly twenty years to cycle back); baggy jeans, low-rise cuts, and grunge elements all take note from the 2000s. However, the twenty-year rule might soon change; as trends and ideas spread faster, they are adopted— and abandoned— faster. The increasingly all-consuming influence of the internet is to blame, and the acceleration isn’t slowing down anytime soon.
Social media spreads ideas too fast for the average person to keep up with, especially when following trends implies making frequent, short-lived purchases that end up in the second-hand shop or landfill. It is far more comfortable to ironically participate with items you already own, wearing 2010s apparel like a toga costume to a party instead of dressing earnestly in “outdated” attire.
In essence, Gen Z is reminiscent of the past while still unwilling to indulge in it unironically. In a society where appearance matters so much, it makes sense to stray away from things most people think of as “cringey” (albeit in a fun way). Right now, many digital microtrends are too eccentric for most people to don in the daylight; when an updated version of 2010 trends becomes popular in five to ten years, the gap between online and real-life fashion trends is likely to shrink. I don’t believe that we’re witnessing a complete collapse of the trend cycle in real time. The unique mix of ironic culture, mass spread of ideas, and nostalgia for a pre-COVID and pre-AI time has defined the 2020s as a temporary stop along the path of the ever-changing dynamic between fashion inspiration and reality.
It’s only been ten years since 2016— only half the traditional trend cycle.
We are still taking inspiration from the Y2K aesthetic, but recent years have displayed an ever-widening gap between online and real-life trends. In a Varsity article from last year, “Are online fashion trends a laughing stock in real life?” writer Mary Anna Im explores the phenomenon of the social media “bubble” that creates both community and conformity. Im discusses how the overexposure to trends can create a mental exhaustion that actually encourages a “basic” wardrobe; in America, the 20-something-year-old girl's college uniform is a pair of leggings and an oversized jumper, items that often have a visibly branded logo that serves as a status symbol, or an indication of capitalistic behaviors.