21, clad in a fitted mini, a beige mesh top, red hair, and one heavy heart, my breakup felt like the end of a racy novel. But as the colour returned to my face, it did so in my wardrobe. It was a transition from my edgy ripped jeans and Dr Martens-dupe-wearing era that my former partner loved to a whole new wardrobe curated to satiate the hollowness I felt.
Three years after snapping out of my romantic reverie, I started to question the real reason behind my habits. From shrouding my very loud personality under the guise of a ‘cool girl’ style to please others, I fell into a marketing ploy to “please myself.” Upon deep reflection, as one does on lonely nights post-heartbreak, I realised that this new form of shopping therapy, cloaked in dopamine dressing and , were all the trend universes cleverly repackaged to do the healing for me.
Somehow, more than therapists, I readily listened to the siren song of brands' whispered advice. For instance, a bow placed on my head could instantly fix my people-pleasing days by slapping on a bandaid named girlhood. Style has become a collective decision of our generation rather than individual.
While everyone loves a new , rather than adopting a particular silhouette or styling element, we’re viewing them as a whole lifestyle. Coquettecore for instance, is not just selling us a frilly skirt, it's a universe rooted in Coppola-isms—a directory on how to inject overt femininity into everything from your clothes to your apartment—a.
