Every time I open social media, there is a new version of womanhood I am apparently supposed to aspire towards. For a while it was the clean girl, with her slicked-back hair, glowing skin and seemingly effortless ability to look put together at all times. Before that, there was the girlboss and somewhere in between came the coquette and old money aesthetics. Each trend promises a slightly different version of the ideal woman, but they all seem to share one important feature: Becoming her requires buying something.
As a college student, it is hard not to notice how much woman-geared social media content revolves around self-improvement. There is always another skincare routine to try, a new fitness trend to follow or a product that promises to transform an otherwise ordinary morning. Even looking natural has become an elaborate process. The clean girl is supposed to look like she woke up with flawless skin and her life together, despite the fact that achieving this appearance takes time, money and a considerable amount of work.
The aesthetic initially appears to be about simplicity; it favors an understated look that presents femininity as polished and uncomplicated, but fails to address how those expectations require the purchase of products. This supposed ‘simple routine’ has become another standard to maintain, and the natural look has become another goal to chase. There is something comical about a trend that promotes simplicity while giving women additional reasons to spend money and scrutinize themselves.
Of course, there is nothing inherently wrong with enjoying skincare, makeup or fashion. Women should be able to experiment with their appearance without having every purchase turned into a political statement. The problem does not stem from women’s enjoyment of products; it is the industry’s financial incentive that has led to women thinking they need to buy them. When an aesthetic becomes popular, it creates an opportunity to sell both a product and an identity. Buying a moisturizer becomes an investment in yourself; purchasing a new wardrobe becomes the beginning of a new era. Suddenly, consumption is not just consumption, it is self-care.
Capitalism has become remarkably good at packaging insecurity as empowerment. Instead of outwardly telling women that they are not good enough, it encourages them to become a better version of themselves. The language is positive but it frames self-improvement as a permanent obligation. As a result, it is difficult for women to recognize when their desire for change comes from within as opposed to the manufactured world around us.
The trends themselves are beside the point. Clean girl eventually gives way to another aesthetic, and the products that once seemed essential are replaced by a new set of recommendations. The ideal woman changes, but the expectation of constant self-improvement remains. This cycle is especially difficult with the presence of social media because it repeatedly presents an ideal life that only happens when users make the right choices. The algorithm does not need to tell someone that their skin, wardrobe and lifestyle are inadequate, it only needs to show content from someone who has “perfected” all three.
Additionally, there is an uncomfortable contradiction in the way that these trends present personal style as individual choice, while attaching social value to its completion. The clean girl is praised for looking polished without trying too hard; her appearance signals discipline, health and a life that is firmly under control. However, the time and money required to maintain that image are not distributed equally. Not everyone has the resources to make wellness and personal presentation a full-time project. When an expensive lifestyle is presented as a natural result of good habits, the line between having the means to participate and being personally responsible becomes blurred.
For a long time, women have been expected to put effort into their appearances without addressing the effort itself. Social media has contributed to this by making the process even more visible and commercialized. Now, even rejecting conventional beauty standards has become another marketable aesthetic. Minimalism has products to sell, natural living has products to sell and even the promise of escaping consumerism can be packaged into a lifestyle that requires a new wardrobe and carefully curated collection of possessions.
The point is not that women should abandon these trends or feel guilty for enjoying them. There is a difference between doing something because it makes you happy and doing something because you have been convinced that you are not enough without it. Those motivations can overlap, which is exactly what makes this cycle so effective. A skincare routine, though part of a culture that encourages women to treat themselves as never-ending renovation projects, can still be enjoyable.
Perhaps the most frustrating part is that there is no real endpoint. There will always be another product that promises clear skin, another routine that promises a more productive life and another aesthetic that promises a more desirable identity. The industry does not benefit from a woman feeling like she has achieved perfection. It benefits from keeping that feeling just out of reach.
Maybe the answer is not to reject fashion, abandon skincare or stop caring about our physical presentation. Maybe it is to question the relationship between these things and the process of bettering oneself as an individual. Women should be able to enjoy getting dressed up, taking care of themselves and trying new things without feeling that every aspect of their lives needs to be optimized.
The message behind these trends is that becoming our best selves is always one purchase away, but there will always be another aesthetic waiting around the corner, ready to explain what the current version of womanhood is missing.
Capitalism does not need women to hate themselves, it only needs them to believe that they could be better. And conveniently, it is always happy to sell them another solution.
Charlotte McDaniel can be contacted at
cm1621@usnh.edu
