BALACLAVA BONANZA.
It started as a high-fashion flex — think Marni, Marine Serre, and Raf Simons putting balaclavas on the runway. Then TikTok took it and ran, transforming the knitted headgear into a viral winter accessory. Cozy? Yes. Statement-making? Definitely. But the trend eventually fizzled when real-world wearers realized they looked less like fashion insiders and more like getaway drivers. It also didn’t help that it wasn’t exactly seasonless — once the weather warmed up, so did our collective disinterest.
MICRO MINI SKIRTS.
When Miu Miu dropped that micro mini — the one barely covering what it legally needed to — fashion was shook. The Y2K revival was already bubbling, and this took it nuclear. Styled with crop tops, ties, and thigh-high confidence, it symbolized a kind of liberated boldness. But reality hit hard: most people don’t want to spend their day adjusting a skirt that’s basically a belt. Cute on the runway, unlivable in real life — and thus, it mini-fied itself right out of rotation.
TOMATO GIRL SUMMER.
Born from an Amalfi-infused daydream and turbocharged by TikTok aesthetics, Tomato Girl Summer was all about flowy dresses, red lips, Mediterranean food, and reading romance novels in Sicilian courtyards (or pretending to). It was romantic escapism, a collective craving for sun-drenched simplicity. But like all hyper-specific aesthetics, it suffered from burnout. The over-saturation (pun intended) made it feel contrived, and once September hit, we all quietly transitioned into Vanilla Girl Fall with no looking back.
BEADED PHONE STRAPS.
These playful, DIY-coded charms popped up on everyone’s phone — from teen influencers to fashion editors — as the ultimate accessory for your accessory. They had a nostalgic 2000s vibe and were an easy way to add personality to your look (without commitment). But as quickly as they arrived, they annoyed us. Tangly, clunky, and a magnet for grime, their novelty wore off. Eventually, we remembered we liked our phones… streamlined. The beads? Better left to friendship bracelets.
CLEAR HEELS.
Cinderella fantasy meets Insta-baddie realness. Clear heels first took off via Yeezy and later became a club-night staple thanks to fast fashion and the Kardashian aesthetic. They promised leg-lengthening magic and a modern-glass-slipper vibe. But wear them once and the illusion shatters — fogged up soles, awkward squeaking, and zero ventilation turned these heels into torture devices. We craved the glam, but not at the cost of our dignity (or foot health).
BUTTERFLY EVERYTHING.
This one flew in on the wings of Y2K nostalgia — from hair clips and mesh tops to glittery appliqués on denim and bags. Inspired by Mariah Carey, early Britney, and a few too many Delia’s catalog scans, the butterfly trend was a nostalgic serotonin hit. But the delicate aesthetic didn’t have long-term flight. As fast fashion brands overdid it, the magic turned mass — and once every rack from Zara to Shein was covered in wings, it just didn’t feel special anymore.
SKI GOGGLES OFF THE SLOPES.
Once confined to the Alps, ski goggles were suddenly everywhere — from street style in Paris to Coachella desert dust. Fueled by celebs like Kim Kardashian and Moncler’s puffed-up universe, they screamed futuristic chic. But IRL? They were impractical, often ridiculous, and more costume than couture. Wearing ski goggles in 30-degree heat became a fashion meme — and the trend melted faster than your foundation under them.
HYPER-LOGO MANIA.
This wasn’t just logo love — it was logo overload. Luxury brands like Balenciaga, Fendi, and Gucci were printing their names on literally everything, tapping into the post-lockdown desire to be seen. Then came the collaborations — Fendace, Adidas x Gucci — feeding our appetite for branded chaos. But fashion fatigue set in. The pendulum swung back toward quiet luxury and understated pieces. Soon, monograms felt loud, dated, and, dare we say… a little try-hard.
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