My editor laughed out loud when I told her I’d dress based on TikTok’s trending hashtags for a week straight. Honestly, so did I. At first. “Yeah, right,” I said, rolling my eyes.
But then again: Challenge accepted. That’s how I found myself letting TikTok dictate my entire wardrobe for seven days in a row. Why?
Well, because after fifteen years of working in fashion, I’ve sort of conditioned myself to do crazy shit that may or may not mortify me in public. Call it journalism integrity or an untreated mental illness my therapist has yet to diagnose, but here we are.
Treat Monday through Sunday as individual articles because, wow, did this experiment take it out of me.
THE RULES: Every morning, I’d browse trending TikTok hashtags to find the trendiest one that remotely related to fashion. Then, I’d force together an entire outfit around it. You want guidelines?
I don’t do shortcuts. If that meant hacking together some ridiculous getup consisting of items no logically dressed person would ever wear together in public, then that’s what I’d wear to work, client meetings, and all-important brunches I couldn’t cancel. If I hate myself, clearly I’ll dress myself into a coma.
Or, I’ll have superb content. Truthfully, I can’t tell anymore. MONDAY: #CowboyCore Ah yes, where we start off with something mildly cute before it all goes down hill real fast.
Because the universe loves kicking people while they’re down, and I’m Jewish so clearly dressed as a cowboy would be traumatizing. Plus I’m from Brooklyn and aside from that one time I took a pony ride at age seven and traumatized myself with how much a horse can sneeze, I haven’t really ever had any practical experience around ranch-style apparel. But alas, the TikTok algorithm doesn’t care about my traumatic childhood experiences with Suffolk Punch horses.
So scroll I did, and choose #CowboyCore I must. Much to my dismay, the only western-themed item I owned was a pair of fake snake skin ankle boots I purchased for some music festival three years ago and have only worn like twice total. Everything else I found in my closet I dug up to try and squeeze some amount of cowboy into.
Serendipitously, I own a silky scarf that could totally pass for a neckerchief, an old belt that boasted a slightly western-y buckle, and a fitted pair of jeans. Team that with a plain white button down shirt tied at the waist, and you’ve basically got yourself a cowboy attire… if you squint and ignore all logic. To top it all off, I borrowed my neighbor Emma’s straw hat.
It wasn’t authentic cowboy hat material, but it was close enough if you drank enough margaritas. The subway ride into work was spent avoiding eye contact with everyone. Like, one man dressed in a full-on business suit did a double take.
Are you kidding me?! I did that on the L train. Between these damn horses and constantly watchingpeople pretend to sleep next to me during their morning commute ON TUESDAY AT 8: 30AM, maybe I should just move back to Long Island. “What zoo are you going to today?” Simone, our fashion director, asked as I entered the office for our morning meeting. “It’s….for an article?” I lied through my teeth.
Truly, there’s no worse lie than telling people you’re dressing a certain way “ironically.” Excuse to live. Katherine, our lovely editor- in-chief, simply nodded knowingly like she understood why I showed up to work resembling what I imagine someone’s idea of a cowboy would be if they lived in Brooklyn and mainly attended music festivals. “You might want to take off the hat inside, TBH.” Too late for that ship to sail, guys. My hat stayed plastered to the top of my head for the rest of the day because lord knows it wasn’t going anywhere at this point.
By lunch, two interns asked me if we were shooting some sort of western themed newsletter spread. By mid-afternoon, I knocked over three items on my desk thanks to my janky neckerchief. By the time I left work, I decided cowboys must have incredibly strong neck muscles and an unusually high threshold for sweating while wrapped in yards of fabric.
Lesson learned: You can totally pull off #CowboyCore if you aren’t committing fully to ranch-life in Wyoming. But please, for the love of God, don’t wear a neckerchief to work where you have actual things on your desk that aren’t miniature ponies. 2/5 stars, would not rewear unless shooting an editorial in a Wyoming ranch.
TUESDAY: #OldMoneyAesthetic TikTok blesses me with a slightly easier trend Tuesday. #OldMoneyAesthetic is basically what I strive to look like on the daily anyway, despite coming from a family with approximately negative dollars old money. I pulled out my camel cashmere sweater (thank you, sample sale, three years ago), my Zara wool trousers that I had tailored to give off high-volume-but-still-looking-pretentious-at-work, and my trusty penny loafers that I tortured myself breaking in during a hot summer New York internship. Finish with a gold signet ring I found at my local vintage store and voilà.
Old money. I even slicked my hair into a low bun and threw on some tiny pearl earrings to really sell the whole “rich lady who spends her weekends sipping rosé and eating popcorn at polo matches” vibe. Stand in front of a mirror like this and you too can convince yourself you own several vacation homes and were briefly considered for Law & Order:SVU just because of your jewelry.
Let’s be real: This entire getup was basically cheating. Same with half the people who work at Style Compass USA. But without the funds or the vacation homes.
I walked into work feeling like total winner. “Buongiorno, beautiful.” Tyler from art department grins at me when I enter the office. If Tyler says I look good, that’s basically praise from the heavens. “It’s old money aesthetic,” I tell him. “Doing an experiment for an article.” He laughs, nodding knowingly. “Old money just high quality stuff you only pretend to care about if you don’t actually have money.” Comfortable enough, this outfit found its way onto me during my day of back to back meetings, which included interviewing an up-and-coming jewelry designer at his showroom and a market appointment with a luxury accessories brand. Newsflash: Everyone takes you seriously when you’re wearing the #OldMoneyAesthetic.
Even if you spend the majority of your time telling these brands you’ll “absolutely love” everything they sent you and will never, ever be able to buy it. Come lunchtime, I found myself resisting the urge to say “darling” every five seconds. Same for when I imagined having martini lunch dates with Sally instead of eating my sad desk salad.
Lesson learned: Old money aesthetic is totally something I’d wear even if I wasn’t doing this ridiculous experiment. As someone who lives in fairly pricey NYC but will probably always be living paycheck to paycheck, pretending to be rich is one of fashion’s greatest pastimes. 5/5 stars, would totally wear all the time.
WEDNESDAY: #BarbieCore Great, now we’re upping the ante with #BarbieCore. God forbid I have two great days in a row where I don’t look like death. Needless to say, I do not own a lot of pink.
I own exactly three articles of pink clothing: running shorts, a sports bra, and a cream and pink cashmere blend bean hat. Sorry, had too. So I did what any sane person would do and scoured my closet for any spin-off of white that I could pass off as “cream.” Emergency shopping was required, which meant a trip to 24-hour CVS at 7 AM to purchase a pack of pink razors.
They sell disposable razors in fun colors because men, and they came with a complimentary hot pink cosmetic bag. Bag = makeshift purse. I literally wore the beanie as my only pink item and styled it with all white: white jeans, button down, sneakers.
Add some pink lip tint, blush, and plopped a pink Post-It folded into a square onto my lapel as a “brooch.” Look at me, I’m Barbie. No, I’m a hot mess having a breakdown who’s wearing a hot pink hat. Wednesday’s agenda included moderating a panel about sustainable fashion with five brilliant minds in sustainable textiles and apparel production.
In case you’re wondering how I popped into work that morning: Barbie tears. “Um, this is for an article I’m doing?” I whispered to James, who founded his denim company by designing the first jean made entirely from upcycled fibers. He stared at me with a look that conveyed he was halfway considering calling security to have me immediately removed. Podcast interviews and panel discussions can do that to you.
Truth: Today was horrible. Not only did I have to mute and unmute myself dozens of times in Google Meet, but I spotted my reflection in a hallway mirror and actually did consider taking off the stupid beanie. Integrity (or mental illness) won’t allow me to dig too deep into my methods, but know this: Barbie Core is not for the workplace.
And maybe not for public? Lesson learned: #BarbieCore is cute in moderation. Unless you regularly incorporate hot pink into your everyday rotation, attempting to dress head-to-toe will get you questions about your mental stability.
I ask plenty. 1/5 stars, would only repeat if my job depended on it. THURSDAY: #CoastalGrandmother Friends.
I didn’t think an aesthetic could make me feel more understood than I did, but you guys came through with #CoastalGrandmother. Coastal grandmother essentially involves dressing like wealthy retirees that live in beach towns and own more types of linen than is humanly necessary. Cuz duh, I literally dream of living by the sea in a perfectly-white cottage wearing only flowy clothing.
It’s my dead origin story, just one day before I became a blogger in San Fran. Onto the outfit. I threw on an oversized cream linen cardigan, basic striped boatneck tee, white linen blend trousers, and white leather slides.
Accented with some delicate gold jewelry and, of course, the straw market tote I also use to buy groceries. Spritz on your favorite perfume — I used Blanc de Blanc by Botkier, which smells exactly how I imagine Diane Keaton’s linen closet smells — and you’re good to go. Walking to the subway I felt zen.
Like a goddess, truly. This is who I am. A wealthy divorcee who writes romance novels from her beach house in the Hamptons while drinking wine before noon is her occupation.
The fact that I have: zero children, don’t own a beach house, am not divorced, and can’t drink wine before noon all facts unrelated to this revelation. I got so many compliments on this getup at work, even from Kathy. Kathy double-takes me when I’m rocking the came outfit. “Harper, you look different.
Are you okay?” She asked. “Yeah! Just #CoastalGrandmother for an experiment.” Education is key. She smiled, moving past me to pour herself a coffee. “Oh!
Well then. It really suits you. Though maybe skip the all-white look for lunch.
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We have that pasta tasting with the food section for the mag collab.” Girl’s got a point. She always does. I spilled marinara on my cardigan about two seconds after grabbing my lunch bag.
But hey, you can’t spell coastal grandmother without coastal crumbs. So I embraced my bourgeoisie falls-on-floor aesthetic and went back to work feeling extra salty…about pasta. My afternoon was spent in an interview with a black leather and studs themed designer.
Trust me when I say we looked like we worked at opposing companies. Her: rockstar rapper who only wears black in her personal life. Me: woman who owns enough beach houses to open her own hotel chain.
Still, I felt powerful walking into that meeting. Like I could tell her her designs weren’t vegan (they weren’t) and she’d have no choice but to listen. Lesson learned: Have I ever looked more like myself than I did wearing #CoastalGrandmother?
No. When I die, I want to be buried wearing white linen clothes and have my ashes scattered on the beach. Bonus points if my ashes vacation at the beach.
I’m moving into this forever, 40 years too soon. 5/5 stars, need a new capsule wardrobe to perfect this instantly. FRIDAY: #Y2KRevival If Wednesday was bad, Friday was straight-up torture. #Y2KRevival.
Let’s have a little backstory, shall we? I Was Not A Fan of the early 2000s. Despite being alive for this decade, I actually don’t remember most of it because I was too busy dying my hair at home and wearing messy tube tops to remember anything past seventh grade.
So when I saw #Y2KRevival trending, I knew I was in for a world of pain. Did I mention I still have traumatic flashbacks from whale tails? Visibility thongs?
And the time I gave myself chunky highlights in the comfort of my own home. But being a quitter isn’t my strong suit, so I dug through my closet for the trashiest items I could only described as “early 2000s, maybe?” Credit where credit’s due: I found some winners. I pulled out a pair of lightly flared jeans — not QUITE low-rise, but embarrassingly low compared to my normal jeans — and coupled my new favorite jeans with a baby tee I basically sleep in now but was GIVEN to me as PR merch ages ago.
Cue the platform flip flops I’ve managed to keep with me through three different New York apartments and — sorry, Mom — the dreaded butterfly hair clip I haven’t thrown out since middle school. It was magical how quickly I went from mature blogger to traumatically remembering what middle school had looked like. “Um, hell no,” my roommate Jade laughed when I emerged from my bedroom, horrified at what I was proposing we wear in public. “This is abusive.” “It’s for an article,” I deadpanned, pulling up my baby tee as it once again tried to ride up to reveal excess skin I thought we were retired. “You’re going to let your therapist know we talked about this,” Jade mumbled under her breath as I stormed out. Ugh, and she’s RIGHT.
I originally planned on going into the office, but after catching a glimpse of myself in the subway platform’s broken window, I chickened out. First thing I did when I got home was text my assistant I’d be working remotely due to “family emergency” and headed to Starbucks across the street from my apartment. SUVLT for the win.
Perched over my laptop like a bird on a wire, I cradled my oversized jean jacket around me for warmth — the one concession to 2022 I granted myself — and worked from home like the shameless millennial I am. My only real interaction of the day? The barista, who was literally SKIPPING when she brought me my almond milk latte asked if she could take her order. “I love your Y2K throwback look!” she sang, pointing at my hair clip. “Is that vintage?” Kids these days.
I wanted to grab my coffee and chug it across the room so nobody would ever hear from me again. Barely exercised restraint, what with having student loans to repay and all. Lesson learned: Some trends are meant to stay buried in the past with our childhood traumas and Tamagotchis.
While the Y2K revival is perfectly fine if you weren’t there for the original trauma (because we don’t talk about what happened to me in middle school), if you were born after 1999 pleaseTM stop trying to make early 2000s fashion work and just appreciate it from afar. 0/5 stars. Would rather wear a garbage bag.
SATURDAY: #NightLuxe SATURDAY, you guys. Trending Saturday was none other than #NightLuxe. For those unfamiliar, TikTok describes night luxe as a moody, nighttime aesthetic that consists of sleek, darker colors and silky materials.
Sounds like the opposite of coastal grandmother, right? Well, it pretty much was. Emotional whiplash galore.
I had plans to meet friends at a new restaurant downtown attempting (hard) to be cool, so my evening plans were sorted. I opted for a simple black slip dress I usually layer under other tops to make work appropriate, but worn solo and with a blazer and skyscraper heels, it was spring-ally perfect. Heavy gold jewelry, a dark red lip, and hair slicked back turned me from lazy blogger into the girl that might know where all the shady bars are in NYC (I don’t, promise).”Did you get a new job?
Or are you and George on a date?” Emma texts me when I told her I’d be late. Instead of texting her back, I showed her my TikTok explanation of #NightLuxe. “Um. Sorry, Harper.
You’re still single because normal people use dating apps. Not literal generations of trends.” Can’t say she isn’t right. The restaurant was everything we expected: painfully cool, with a doorman who looked you up and down to determine if you were cool enough to grace their restaurant.
Speaking of cool enough, my purposely wild TikTok outfit paid off when we were let through the front doors. I looked like I belonged rubbing elbows with all these beautiful people eating small-portioned foods and taking disgustingly adorable photos for Instagram. I even got recognized by a group of people at the table next to us. “Are you…the Harper from Style Compass USA?” A woman asked, pointing at my phone. “Oh my God, YES.
I’ve loved your articles, especially the one about greenwashing in sustainable fashion!” Her and her friends all chimed in. And that’s how I ended up having the most amazing conversation about how the fashion industry tries to take advantage of us all with a group of strangers. Me, being my genuine self outside of work clothes, actually forgot I was wearing this for a trend and not because it’s how I normally dress.
To be fair, it’s not too far off. But also, sleep. Verdict: Spoiler alert: I’m basically doing night luxe without realizing anytime I go out after, say, 8 PM.
It’s what going out clothes evolved into when we all got older and stopped caring what people think. Still love it. 4/5 stars, would be a 5 if my heels didn’t blister my feet.
SUNDAY: #CleanGirl And we’ve come to day seven. #CleanGirl was today’s trending aesthetic, which essentially means no-makeup makeup and a slicked-back bun. Perk of Sunday: after a wild week of aesthetics, #CleanGirl literally gave me life. It was the algorithm patting me on the back and saying it “understood.” I pulled my hair into the tightest bun I could create with my nonexistent strands, rolled out of bed and popped into, and woke myself up enough to where I didn’t look like death.
Makeup was tinted moisturizer, brow gel, and lip balm. White jeans, blue button down, leather slides. Done and done.
Sunday consisted of the farmer’s market and brunch with Jade, who was a lot more receptive of today’s outfit than she was of yesterday’s horrendous getup. “You look so put together,” she said through a mouth full of food. Newsflash: That’s the entire point of the clean girl aesthetic. As I wandered up and down the farmer’s market isles, I found myself browsing the expensive-looking fruits and vegetables I usually deem too pricey.
Part of me wanted to buy everything just to make a full charcuterie board because #CleanGirl Mara does things like that. I ran into Katherine from the office, who was there buying grass-fed chicken breasts with her two actual children. Children who, I’m sure, taught her how to actually function as an adult.
She smiled at me from across the veggie isle. “I loved your cowboy hat, but this is even better for the office.” Lesson Learned: Clean girl is basic adulting crunked up for an aesthetic. Sure, it’s comfortable. And kinda boring if you ask me.
But will you spend your Sunday looking effortlessly put together and receiving compliments on how great you look after spending absolutely no time doing your hair and makeup? Also yeah. 8/10, would’ve given it a 10 if I hadn’t spent the entire day craving a glass of wine.
And there you have it, folks: One woman’s journey through dressing strictly according to TikTok’s trending hashtags. If I learned anything from this insane week: 1) TikTok’s algorithm does not understand what real people wear on a daily basis. Or, at the very least, people that commute to an office by public transit.
2) Dressing for a theme will never look as good as dressing for yourself.
Sorry, coffee store challenges. 3) Fashion is significantly less fun when you’re not dressing for yourself.
4) Everyone should dress in the coastal grandmother aesthetic more because it’s goddamn perfection. 5) I will NEVER wear anything low-rise as long as I live. I had a lot of fun doing this, honestly.
It made me remember why I fell in love with fashion to begin with. Yes, it’s cool to see what’s trending every week, and yes, scrolls down TikTok will never get old. But at the end of the day, getting dressed is about self-expression.
Take that away and replace it with a constant need to fit in with trends dictated by hashtags, and your clothes suddenly don’t fit right. They feel like costumes. Sure, I’ll still TikTok for funsies.
But you’ll be hard pressed to find me wearing something just because some algorithm thinks you should. Unless we’re doing #CoastalGrandmother outfits again. We’re doing that forever.
