AS autumn creeps in I know my social media feeds will be filled with Ugg Tazz slippers and whatever this year’s Molly-Mae-approved jacket turns out to be.
I might be Gen Z – and embrace other autumn traditions like pumpkin spice lattes – but I simply can’t tolerate so-called “trendy” autumn fashion.
I should probably add a caveat: at 26, I’m at the older end of the Gen Z scale which also includes 11-year-olds.
There are a few reasons for my distaste.
Firstly, I can’t stomach the idea of looking like a carbon copy of every other Gen Z-er.
Due to pressures from social media, most girls my age and younger would rather dress exactly like their peers to avoid judgment from onlookers online.
We’re the social media generation, so what’s cool is cool (as decided by the influencer Gods) and anyone who errs on the side of that risks being shunned.
Last autumn, influencers told us those clunky Ugg Tazz slippers were cool.
Every girl and their dog rushed to nab a pair, despite them being objectively hideous shoes.
And, two years on, I’m still traumatised by the viral Zara biker jacket in a swamp green shade which was dubbed “the Molly-Mae jacket“.
I couldn’t even pop to Sainsbury’s without seeing at least five girls wearing it.
It became such a cult piece that re-sellers were flogging the jacket for up to £500 on pre-loved sites – and girls were snapping it up for the inflated price.
I couldn’t think of anything more mortifying than heading out and seeing multiple women in the same outfit as me.
For this reason, I also hate “cosy” loungewear sets from any online store and Adidas Sambas – two autumn staples last year.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been reeled into my fair share of fast fashion trends during my university days, but everyone in their twenties should know better now.
I’m well aware that it pays to be on-trend.
Here are the basic facts...
I think more women should remember that influencers get paid a commission when you buy the cheap that they’re claiming is “trendy”.
In recent years, we’ve seen people who were once nobodies become millionaires all for promoting the over-consumption of fast fashion.
This is something which ramps up a gear in autumn.
A quick scroll on TikTok in October and every other video is guaranteed to be some wannabe social media star urging their followers to buy this year’s “It girl” jumper made of cheap polyester.
I think more women should remember that influencers get paid commission when you buy the cheap tat they’re claiming is ‘trendy’
Josie O'Brien
It leaves me feeling exasperated and asking myself: “What’s wrong with wool?!”
A good quality woolly jumper can last you endless winters.
And there’s no excuse in terms of affordability, given charity shops are full of them.
But the truth is that Gen Z-ers have an appetite for trendy clothes – and they aren’t fussed if such gear is wrecking the planet.
According to Waste Managed, the world consumes around 92 million tonnes of textiles per year.
The fashion industry accounts for 8.1% of global greenhouse gas emissions and 20% of global water waste – statistics which are fuelled by influencers promoting over-consumption in the name of being “trendy”.
Brits are some of the worst offenders in the world, despite us inhabiting such a tiny island.
In the UK, approximately 350,000 tonnes of clothing waste is sent to landfills each year.
Gen Z has shunned timeless knitwear in favour of scratchy plastic that they bin after one wear just so they can be dressed like their favourite influencers.
British consumers are some of the biggest spenders in the world, too.
The average Brit spends an eye-watering £980.50 on clothes every year. Seems a bit excessive, doesn’t it?
I, for one, am taking a stand.
I’m not too sure what the ‘It’ autumn shoe or must-have winter jumper from TikTok Shop is this year, but I won’t be wearing either.
As soon as it becomes clear, I’ll be muting all talk of it across my social media and scrolling straight past any TikTok videos that start with a desperate: “Guys, you HAVE to get this.”
