The aesthetics of normal life continue to conquer social media.
In recent months, a trend has emerged on TikTok that resembles a statement more than a simple aesthetic: having-a-life-core, linked to the normcore trend of earlier this year. This aesthetic overturns the idea of always being busy, inaccessible, and high-achieving, placing a focus on authentic living, made up of slow time and everyday moments, in stark contrast to the hustle culture.
The phrase "having-a-life-core" was coined by TikTok creator Jayne, who perceived a clear shift in how life is viewed today. Gone is the detached party girl of the 2000s; in her place is the person who looks like they've just stepped out of a pottery class. Gone is the working girl shuttling between the gym and the office; in her place is the one who goes hiking or fills her week with small, everyday rituals. The idea is no longer just to exist, but, in a way, to truly "live."
To understand this shift in attention, however, we must look to the past. In the late 2000s, being cool meant making minimal effort. According to RUSHH The It-girls of the era, from Kate Moss to Paris Hilton, were enviable precisely because they seemed to be doing nothing, with "smudged eyeliner, indie sleaze hair, and an aesthetic of disinterest." Today, that same "doing nothing" is no longer aspirational, as designer Jayne points out. The pandemic forced everyone to stay put, with two years of lockdowns, sweatpants, Zoom calls, and banana bread transforming idleness from a status symbol into a symptom. The parameters have changed, and it's now more interesting to be seen doing something.
This shift is also reflected in fashion. The rise of gorpcore a few years ago somewhat anticipated the trend, transforming technical hiking clothing into an urban staple. Today, having-a-life-core aims to go further. It's no longer the focus on a single outfit, but rather the habits and hobbies that can be incorporated into clothing, giving it meaning. References include photos of Mia Goth on the set of MaXXXine in an oversized shirt, wide-legged pants, and Birkenstocks, or Natalia Dyer photographed walking her dog in a sweatshirt, baggy jeans, and red headphones.
At first glance, these looks seem insignificant, the usual candid shots of celebrities with a coffee in hand and in their pajamas. But behind this imagery lies an economic truth. Indeed, RUSHH points out that, on the one hand, the cost of living is rising and economic capital is becoming increasingly inaccessible, and on the other hand, cultural capital is once again becoming a marker of status. Thus, hiking, reading, going to concerts, having hobbies and routines is becoming a new form of symbolic wealth.
Luxury for Gen Z is experiential.
This aesthetic, as previously mentioned, emerged in response to the toxic narrative that the only way to have value is to be constantly productive and always growing—the personification of extreme capitalism. But after pandemics, wars, and recessions, the trend among young people is taking a different direction.
A Deloitte study shows that 77% of people have experienced burnout at work and that 42% have left their jobs due to nervous exhaustion. And Gen Z, as we know, is beginning to reject this logic. For younger generations, non-stop work is no longer a desirable goal; what they aspire to is an optimal work-life balance, and in this context, "having-a-life-core" increasingly resembles a political statement disguised as an aesthetic choice.
An oversized technical jacket, comfortable trousers, and Birkenstocks communicate something very clear: "I have a real life off-screen," outside the office, a life made up of routines, hobbies, and relationships. In short, it's very likely that by 2026, at least on the surface, we'll see people who are more relaxed, wearing more comfortable clothes suited to real life, compared to the terrible routines that start at 4 a.m. with an ice-cold shower and the gym, only to then boast about working late into the night at the office.