I survived low-rise jeans. Leave me be. Photo: Unsplash.
So far, my life as a millennial has been one long contortionist act.
From childhood to parenthood, we’ve diligently flip-flopped and rearranged ourselves in response to changing attitudes, advancing technology, unprecedented events, progressive research and rapid-fire trend-setting.
Reaching this mid-life milestone, I’m exhausted. I’ve evolved more than a Galápagos turtle.
But, given my survival isn’t dependent on fashion fads, I’m beginning to assess where I place my energy.
Nowadays, my social feed is littered with reminders that being a millennial is ‘cringe’ and that I should burn my skinny jeans and camouflage myself immediately.
What strikes me is that it’s so often millennials passing on this message.
Why are we rushing to adopt trends set by the younger generation? Aren’t we supposed to be rolling our eyes at their naivety and laughing behind our hands at their eyebrows?
Instead, we seem to be taking direction from them. Rushing to slick our brows back, pull our socks up (literally) and demolish our long-serving sideparts.
And honestly, it’s giving ‘pick me’ energy. With each passing day, I worry about our generation finally transitioning from Regina George into her ‘cool’ Mum.
This downward-facing trend-setting goes against the grain. No previous generations have so outwardly tried to emulate their young people’s style.
Boomers laughed at our dangerously low-cut jeans, chunky highlights and dangly hair ‘bits’.
Their parents shook their heads at flared jeans and platform shoes (which, incidentally, we, mutating millennials, also tried poaching at one point).
Our parents never adopted our lingo, and the younger generation has discontinued most of it – with good reason, as so much of it was sexist, ableist and homophobic.
Conversely, young people have spawned an entirely new language. And if it were available on Duolingo, we millennials would never break our streak.
As an armchair expert, I note our upbringing in an era where parenting and pop culture looked wildly different to how they do now. We were raised one way, then required to evolve and teach another.
Since our phones first sensed we were childbearing, parenting advice has been at our fingertips. We fight against ourselves every day to do what’s deemed “right” by this steady feed of new research and expertise.
Our formative years also coincided with a seriously wild time in media and entertainment, when exploitation was higher than Afroman and self-esteem got lower than Lil Jon.
Every time I rewatch a beloved movie from my childhood, I’m shocked by the casual body-shaming, sexism, ableism, crude jokes and general creepiness. The content we passively consumed as children in a ‘pre-woke’ era goes against so much of what we now actively teach our own kids.
Can you imagine the energy required to make that backflip?
We didn’t choose our trends; they were chosen for us and packaged into idols used to sell anything from Pepsi to perfume.
Britney was not that innocent, Kesha sold trashbag chic and Amanda Bynes championed quirky and cute.
Meanwhile, mocking women was the media’s default setting, and – across TV, movies and magazines – female celebrities were continuously torn down for being too fat, thin, irresponsible, over-confident and always generally wrong.
Is it any wonder that we millennials are stuck in a never-ending quest to get it right?
Social media gave the next generation a chance to crowd-source their own culture peer-to-peer.
Sadly, the marketing monsters have, of course, found them, and things have undoubtedly gotten out of control again when it comes to trend-setting.
Forget fashion faux pas like skinny jeans and big sunglasses; Gen Alpha’s fast-burning micro-trends have them spending a fortune on beauty regimens so advanced they deserve a NASA degree.
While I muster the energy to wash my face at night, they’re lying under their LED light, taping their mouth shut and shedding their skin each morning – the beautiful little aliens.
We millennials have such a unique perspective, perched atop the fence separating pre- and post-tech times. However, we seem to lack a sense of direction.
But we’ve done our time. Let’s not bend ourselves out of shape again with the next generation.
Me? I’m going to half-tuck my shirt and sling on my crossbody bag. Forget ‘pick me’. Let’s embrace ‘leave me out of it’.
