Back in college, when my roommate announced she was making “Gigi Hadid Pasta” for dinner, I expected some carb-free miracle meal.
asserted
I → announce → meal
Instead, my friend served up a regular plate of ziti with vodka sauce, plus a few lonely flakes of red pepper.
asserted
friend → serve → pepper
Still, six years after Hadid filmed herself cooking the basic dish during the COVID lockdown, social media has treated a glob of vodka sauce like a Michelin-starred breakthrough.
asserted
media → film → breakthrough
This isn’t an isolated trend — it’s the foundation of contemporary internet culture.
asserted
it → isolate → culture
Long-practiced behaviors get repackaged with star-studded branding, and because we’re all chronically online, we view the content as important and new instead of just routine.
asserted
we → practice → content
As a 22-year-old, TikTok is my go-to search engine for virtually everything — from outfit inspiration to dinner recipes on a $20 budget.
asserted
TikTok → go → budget
But when I see new trends flooding my feed with claims of being “brand-new,” I am constantly asking myself, ‘Hasn’t this always been a thing?’
uncertain
this → see → myself
I hate to agree with my Gen X parents who say my generation has no originality.
asserted
generation → hate → originality
To them, every song sounds the same and every trend is recycled from years past — and they’re not wrong.
asserted
they → sound → years
Anytime my parents learn of a “new” online trend or hear my friends and me talk about something circulating on social media, they’re quick to point out that their generation has already been doing or saying that for years.
asserted
generation → learn → years
Take the “partless slickback” that Kylie Jenner wore to a Knicks game in August.
asserted
Jenner → take → August
The standard ponytail Jenner wore to the game was identical to the one my mom brushed into my hair for every elementary school picture day.
asserted
mom → wear → day
But TikTok instantly exploded in “get-the-look” tutorials, calling the lip kit guru “iconic,” when she was just sporting a regular hairstyle.
asserted
she → explode → hairstyle
Hairstyles and trends come and go, but for a generation that spends hours on the internet, it sometimes still seems like other Gen Zers live under a rock.
asserted
Zers → come → rock
Sofia Richie, the social media personality and daughter of Lionel Richie, had a similar viral moment when she posted a tutorial for a “sleek lazy girl bun” with her hair pulled back tight into a knot.
asserted
hair → have → knot
The clip racked up nearly 43 million views, quickly inspiring the viral “Sofia Richie slick-back” trend that swept bridal styles nationwide.
asserted
that → rack → styles
One TikTok bridal hair and makeup stylist posted a tutorial and said the sleek, low-slung bun has become her most requested wedding look.
asserted
bun → post → tutorial
We’ve reached a point where chronic influencer obsession has warped our perception of ordinary life, turning basic and longstanding styles into groundbreaking innovations — at least if they’re performed by impossibly pretty and incalculably rich influencers.
asserted
they → reach → influencers
Witness the recent, and vaguely ridiculous, frenzy around Hailey Bieber enjoying a sushi lunch.
asserted
Bieber → witness → lunch
When the definitive Gen Z “it girl” posted a video snacking on sushi in a sheet mask, fans began posting videos following suit, fascinated that she was able to do skincare and eat at the same time.
asserted
she → post → time
Bieber was called a “trendsetter” and iconic” for her face-mask sushi video, with users trying to replicate it and failing.
asserted
users → call → it
“Queens, Hailey makes it look easy because you need to let the mask soak in a bit before eating,” explained a TikTok user.
asserted
user → make → ?
“She did it so effortlessly BECAUSE her mask already started to set on her face, you can see it on her chin,” said another.
asserted
another → do → chin
Soon, the online cult of Hailey was begging her to launch a “sushi-friendly” face-mask line, as if you can’t already grab a California roll while practicing some self-care.
asserted
you → beg → care
I am guilty of buying Bieber’s $25 lip gloss and don’t mean to stand on a moral high ground.
asserted
I → buy → ground
As a chronic internet consumer and girls’ girl myself, we are diminishing these successful women by calling them “pioneers.”
asserted
we → diminish → them
Putting influencers on a pedestal should have higher criteria, because we’ve been throwing around the word “iconic” for the bare minimum.
asserted
we → put → minimum
These everyday social media trends exist independently of influencers too — and it’s no coincidence that 2020 marked the rise of “romanticizing your life,” a social media term for treating your ordinary routines with more intention and creativity.
asserted
2020 → exist → intention
But online culture has pushed this impulse so far that even taking a routine outdoor stroll was rebranded into a viral phenomenon: the “hot girl walk.”
asserted
taking → push → phenomenon
TikTok creator Mia Lind first coined the phrase during the COVID-19 pandemic to describe a simple daily pass around the block.
asserted
Lind → coin → block
The concept quickly exploded, inspiring young women everywhere to organize group walks with friends.
asserted
concept → explode → friends
Lind subsequently trademarked the term, and her legal team now issues cease-and-desist letters to creators hosting “hot girl walk” events — or even using the title on Spotify playlists.
asserted
team → trademark → playlists
Trademarking the concept of stepping outside for fresh air turned a simple, healthy habit into a commodified trend.
asserted
Trademarking → trademark → trend
Promoting a “hot-girl walk” is inherently positive but turning it into a branded product feels almost dystopian.
asserted
turning → promote → product
This year, romanticizing life went one step further, hijacking language around real fashion trends to describe… burned bread.
asserted
romanticizing → romanticize → bread
“Turns out toast is kinda chic,” captioned one TikTok user with a video of her making a totally normal breakfast of toast and eggs, accumulating over 632,000 likes.
asserted
her → turn → likes
In response, one commenter dryly dubbed her “the boy who cried chic.”
asserted
who → dub → chic
Ridiculous, yes, but it nevertheless launched a “kinda chic” trend, with users framing simple habits—such as taking a coffee break at work or practicing basic self-care – as a stylish statement.
asserted
users → launch → statement
The absurdity is that influencers aren’t even trying to market these concepts.
asserted
influencers → try → concepts
Their audience does the heavy lifting for them, voluntarily spending time — and money — to copy plain behavior and coin it with the influencers’ names.
asserted
audience → do → names
…and 10 more, not listed.
The Aporia
