With dreary, dark skies, a blinding phone screen, mountains of blankets, and the washing machine clanging aggressively in the dead of the night, doomscrolling on Instagram reels sounds like the perfect way to wrap up the day. Curiously, a video of a girl appears on the feed, words falling out of her mouth: “What are we wearing this year?”

This is one of many well-intentioned questions frequently seen on social media: “Can we normalize wearing this”, “can we normalize doing that”, “let me know what we’re wearing this spring”, and plenty more. But what seems to be the harm in asking these things?

According to Collabra: Psychology, a study conducted from 2000 to 2020 revealed a 4.28% increase in concern about public perception. People were more anxious about what others thought about them, resulting in a suppression of their personal beliefs, styles, and opinions in fear of societal consequences.

Clothes are merely one example of how these fears hold individuals back from expressing themselves. The dread of standing out, being ostracized for dressing differently, and dropping from a “social ranking” prevents some from chasing after their desired fashion.

The pressure to conform is at a high in our time, especially as social media is rampant in our generation. The tendency to worry about keeping up with new trends and current styles is a direct effect of longing to feel a sense of belonging in society.

When dressing outside of the societal norm, there is a chance for a person to be subjected to alienation, rejection, and exclusion. Being able to find a style that makes one happy comes at the risk of encountering people who bring them down for looking unique.

Conformity is a defense mechanism for people who fear isolation and strive for acceptance from others. Consequently, wearing the same thing as the majority creates an illusion of belonging by “becoming” one with the rest of the crowd; by looking like everyone else, it is less likely to become the “odd one out”.

On social media, a person can be influenced by others through observing how they dress and how they are treated. For instance, certain styles are stigmatized because some people perceive individuals with that style negatively. If someone had an interest in that fashion taste but noticed how widely disliked it was, it could drive them away from a desire for self-expression and towards a need for social acceptance.

Namely, I used to show alternative hair or clothing ideas to my mother because I liked the style and believed I would be happy if I could dress in a similar fashion. She always shot me down and told me not to “associate with that crowd”, implying that alternative people were “strange” and “weird”. Furthermore, I frequently see people online mocking alternative styles, especially emos, dragging an entire subculture through the mud with harmful stereotypes.

Moreover, when an item becomes “trendy”, many people will buy it simply because of its popularity. Trending things shift their attention towards material goods that other people enjoy, not things that they enjoy. This re-emphasizes the idea that having similar things to the majority makes one part of it, fostering a sense of community.

In the end, what would be more gratifying: the relief of feeling protected by blending in with the majority, or the freedom to go against the norm and embrace a style that aligns with one’s identity?

Fashion has been a cherished form of self-expression for years; humans adorn beautiful garments as a visual representation of who they are and what they are proud of. They carry their identity on their body, and how they are perceived by others outweighs how they perceive themself.

In my experience, I learned that personal style mattered more than a homogenous one. Before, I wanted to follow all the trending sub-styles I saw online: Y2K, “down-town girl”, lolita, dark academia, and shoujo. I bought clothes that never got worn twice because they lost popularity. When I noticed how they rotted away in my closet, the truth dawned on me. I never liked those styles enough to imagine wearing them; what I did was impulsive, in an effort to be accepted.

Gradually, I stopped trying to force myself into one “aesthetic”, choosing to experiment with the clothes I had already. Being able to dictate what I wore, without fear of perception, made me more confident.

Additionally, I embraced my culture more. The traditional clothes I thought made me look different from everyone else were no longer shameful, but glorious. Once you learn to stop caring about what everyone thinks, you become your truest self.

Forget about what’s in season. Forget about what microtrends people are obsessed with. Forget about what others think. How you dress should be influenced by what you like, not another person’s opinion.

Ultimately, to answer the question, “What are we wearing this year?”, it’s simple. Whatever you’d like.