When you put on clothes before going out into the world, do you ever stop to think about who it is that you got dressed for? The seemingly obvious answer would be yourself; you’re the one who’s wearing the clothes, after all. However, this explanation ignores all of the other factors at play when we get dressed. We’re not just putting on clothes. We’re choosing how we present ourselves to others.
The knowledge that we are going to be perceived by others more often than not directly impacts the decisions we make when we get dressed. Humans naturally seek connection with others, and clothing is one way we can open ourselves up to that connection. Thus, a significant driver behind clothing choices is the desire for belonging. Wearing a sneaker or hat made by a certain brand allows others who also recognize and identify with the values that brand represents. In this way, the wearer can partake in a sense of community created through recognition.
Prior to the current era of hyper brand awareness and trend generation via social media, subcultures were a predominant influence on style. Iconic subcultures such as goth, grunge, and prep have true longevity and continue to influence style today independent of the trend cycle. Having a style so interconnected to the values and lifestyles of a specific group allowed (and still allows, to a certain extent) members to identify one another. There is something almost magical about glancing at a passerby and knowing from their outfit alone that the two of you would likely have much in common. The advent of social media has dimmed this magic as the aesthetic choices of subcultures have become commoditized online.
This phenomenon was wonderfully demonstrated with the “old money” trend that began on TikTok and quickly spread through other social media platforms and fashion publications. The trouble with trying to copy a group of which you are not a member is it comes across as a costume to those that are a part of the subculture. TikTok personalities such as Kiki Astor (@kiki_astor) have posted videos critiquing other creators’ content on topics such as “old money outfits” or “old money manicures” and instead showing what would actually fall into those categories. To Ms. Astor, as a member of this particular socioeconomic class, it is laughably apparent that these creators are not from generationally wealthy families. She is sure to mention that there is not anything wrong with these creators suggestions, in fact some are nicer than what would qualify as truly “old money”, but they are clearly trying to emulate a lifestyle that they have no lived experience with.
Imitation without shared experiences and values is not exclusive to the social elite. Amongst club goers, techno lovers, etc. it is common knowledge that Berghain is one of the hardest clubs to gain entry to in the world. There are no table reservations and no minimum spend that can guarantee entrance. Instead, the fate of Berghain hopefuls lays fully in the hands of the highly discerning door staff. From retellings of those rejected and accepted alike, it seems that the bouncers hardly speak to potential patrons in line. The decision comes after a glance up and down, followed by a simple “yes” or “no.” Without spoken word to differentiate between club goers, these bouncers are adept at identifying authentic members of the techno culture of Berghain, and knowing who is dressed in a costume meant to imitate it.
The gap between visual representation and internal values is relatively recent one, as the rise of social media has made it much easier to emulate the style of a subculture without truly being a member of it. Everyone has access to the latest trends without needing to spend time around the people that popularized them. Instagram and TikTok see thousands of OOTD (outfit of the day) posts, allowing content consumers to more easily copy the posters’ style without even leaving their houses. This is reflected in the different aesthetic trends that have popped up over the past few years, from cottage-core to coastal cowgirl. The common theme between aesthetics is their tendency to romanticize the reality of the lifestyle associated with the look, stripping the shared ideology and principles from the visuals and leaving the empty outer signifiers. This lack of emotional connection with the culture behind the style allows an aesthetic to sweep in, take over, and then disappear within the span of a few months. In contrast, the staying power of the aforementioned well known subcultures lies in the sense of community they evoke from their members. Identifying with the values of a group makes members much less likely to abandon it when presented with the latest trend.
There is something to the old adage “fake it ‘til you make it,” but if you don’t aspire to the ideals and values of the subculture you’re imitating, what’s the point? Who are you getting dressed for?