TikTok’s “Recessioncore” Trend: How Conservative Fashion Reflects Economic Anxiety
A new wave of TikTok discourse is linking today’s most viral fashion trends to an ominous economic forecast. Dubbed “recessioncore,” users are pointing to the rise of conservative, hyper-feminine aesthetics slicked-back buns, quiet luxury, and office siren attire as subtle indicators of a looming financial crisis. While the trend has sparked humor (and existential dread), it raises a pressing question: Are these style shifts just cyclical fads, or do they signal deeper societal anxieties about money, politics, and identity?
Fashion’s Recession Playbook
Historically, fashion has mirrored economic turbulence. During the 2008 recession, minimalist “corporate core” styles dominated runways, while lipstick sales spiked a phenomenon economists dubbed the “lipstick index,” where consumers opt for small luxuries during downturns. Today, TikTokers are spotting parallels. Neutral palettes, longer hemlines, and the resurgence of skinny silhouettes are all being labeled recessioncore. Even wellness trends 6 a.m. Pilates, “bedtime routines”—echo past eras of austerity, where self-discipline was culturally celebrated.
The current obsession with “quiet luxury” (think $200 Zara blazers masquerading as The Row) and hyper-feminine aesthetics (clean-girl gloss, dissolved lip fillers) suggests a retreat into tradition. For men, polo shirts and tailored slacks are replacing streetwear. This isn’t just about clothes it’s a cultural reset. After years of gender-fluid fashion and body positivity, rigid norms are creeping back.
The Politics of Polished Perfection
The push toward conservatism carries troubling implications. Ultra-feminine trends like the “office siren” (blazers paired with pencil skirts) or “tradwife” modest dressing aren’t neutral—they reinforce narrow standards of womanhood. As Vogue noted, the “approved” look for women in male-dominated spaces (see: Trump-era politics) involves “bouncy blowouts, skirt suits, and nonthreatening glamour.” The pressure to conform is relentless: Achieving this aesthetic requires time, money, and effort luxuries many can’t afford in a cost-of-living crisis.
Marginalized groups bear the brunt. The rise in transphobia and fatphobia online aligns with fashion’s pivot to exclusionary ideals. Brands are quietly phasing out inclusive sizing, while runways revert to homogeneity. “Fashion is no longer democratizing it’s gatekeeping,” says content creator Katie, who highlights how fast-fashion giants like Shein now mimic luxury aesthetics to justify price hikes, leaving ethical practices behind.
Is This Really a Recession Indicator?
Economists are divided. While Vogue dismisses skinny jeans as mere trend cycles, some patterns hold weight. The “lipstick index” has resurfaced, with TikTokers tracking surging sales of $35 Merit lip oils as “affordable indulgence.” Meanwhile, Stella McCartney’s 2025 “laptop to lap dance” collection selling office-to-club attire mirrors 2008’s recession-proof marketing.
But TikTok’s alarmism may miss the mark. Gen Z’s meme-driven fatalism (“we’re all doomed anyway”) often masks genuine anxiety. As users joke about “girl math” (mental gymnastics to justify purchases) or “dopamine dressing” (buying colorful clothes to cope), they’re grappling with a reality where wages stagnate, rents soar, and climate collapse looms. Fashion becomes both a distraction and a barometer of despair.
The Ripple Effect Beyond Trends
The conservative shift isn’t confined to wardrobes. Beauty trends like “no-makeup makeup,” retinol obsession, and tattoo removal promote a return to “natural” ideals—code for conformity. Even food isn’t spared: TikTok’s viral “girl dinners” (snack plates) and “coquette” tea parties frame restriction as aesthetic, echoing pro-ana communities of the early 2000s.
These trends intersect with rising tradwife content and far-right political gains globally. When influencers like Nara Smith (who partners with brands like Aerie) promote homemaking as aspirational, they blur the line between lifestyle and ideology. As Katie notes, “TikTok repackages conservatism as relatable—it’s the Handmaid’s Tale with a slicked-back bun.”
Fighting Back: Can Fashion Be a Form of Resistance?
While brands regress, consumers aren’t powerless. TikTok’s cottagecore maximalists and DIY upcyclers prove creativity thrives in crisis. Supporting indie designers, thrifting, or simply wearing bold colors can challenge homogenized aesthetics. Awareness is key: Question why certain trends go viral. Does “corporate core” normalize workplace sexism? Does “quiet luxury” excuse greenwashing?
Legislation also plays a role. With the EU cracking down on fast fashion and the U.S. stalling, public pressure is critical. “Sustainability is sidelined, but we don’t have to be,” says Katie. “Call out brands, back petitions, and remember voting with your wallet isn’t the only option.”
The Bottom Line
TikTok’s recessioncore trend reveals a generation navigating economic precarity through irony and aesthetics. While fashion’s conservative pivot may reflect fear, it also offers a roadmap for resistance. In a world pushing us to blend in, the most radical act might just be standing out. As Katie puts it: “Wear neon, thrift wildly, and remember trends pass, but values stick.”
