It’s a Friday night, and I’m indulging in my favorite ritual: reviewing runway looks, trend-spotting, curating textures and silhouettes. The thrill isn’t in reading forecasts or flipping through trend reports — it’s in the discovery. Slowly, patterns emerge: pastel florals (groundbreaking, I know), stripes in every variation, from classic Breton to yuppie pinstripe. Capes. Sheer lace layered with weightless transparency. Pearls. Caps. Ballet and tenniscore. Balloon sleeves, boho maxi skirts, and baggy jeans (still going strong, knees ripped and all). Skinny pants? Still waiting in the wings.

And yet, I can’t help but ask: does this still matter?

When Runways and Reality Drift Apart

After years of cataloging collections, I often wonder: Are these trends really what's worn on the street? Or are we simply chronicling a parallel fashion universe? Some of the most talked-about “trends” now emerge far beyond fashion weeks — sparked by TikTok aesthetics, pop culture moments, or unexpected cultural tides.

Take early 2024’s mob wife aesthetic. Or the ripple effect from Luca Guadagnino’s Challengers, with Zendaya in that “I Told Ya” Loewe tee — an instant sellout, a statement beyond the screen. Or Brat Summer, born not from any designer collection, but from Charli XCX’s neon green album art. Suddenly, a garish visual identity became a fashion moodboard. Nobody planned it. It just happened.

Designers: Still the Originals?

The question — Who sets trends today? Designers or influencers? — feels like the fashion world’s version of the chicken-or-the-egg. Personally, I side with the designers, despite their uphill battle.

They carry the weight of commercial expectations, creative legacy, and constant reinvention. Especially those helming heritage houses, who must channel a founder’s voice while carving their own. Alessandro Michele’s debut at Valentino was criticized for resembling his Gucci era — until critics remembered that the Valentino archives of the 1970s looked quite similar.

Ironically, even TikTok’s Gen Z-fueled aesthetics are rarely original. As WGSN points out, behind every viral aesthetic is a long lineage. Cottagecore? It's gingham, ruffles, and wicker — timeless codes, renamed for the algorithm.

As Czech marketing expert Pavlína Louženská notes, Gen Z treats trends not as identity, but as costume. They try on styles like characters — one day #preppygirl, the next #witchyautumn. “I’m in my XYZ era” is the new norm. Trends have become moods, not mandates.

Styling: The New Design

For millennials like myself, trends feel less like self-discovery and more like styling challenges. We don’t need new aesthetics. We need new ways to wear what we already own.

The Wrong Shoe Theory — stylist Allison Bornstein’s idea of deliberately mismatching footwear to “spice up” an outfit — illustrates this perfectly. Think brown cords, white socks, and leopard ballerinas. Or scroll through the Instagram of Linda Sza, the Düsseldorf influencer with Kendall Jenner’s approval. Her looks? Built on foundational pieces, colored tights, and repetition. Burgundy today, leopard tomorrow.

And what we once considered “basic” styling tricks are now runway-ready: leopard tights showed up at Blumarine, Isabel Marant, and Elisabetta Franchi this fall. Red sheers followed in Valentino and Versace’s spring collections. Clearly, stylists and influencers are in a creative dialogue — and designers are listening.

A Fashion Archive at Our Fingertips

Social media has become fashion’s living archive. Pinterest boards and vintage Instagram posts allow us — designers, stylists, everyday wearers — to tap into any era, instantly. And what once felt like clashing styles now coexist on the same runways.

Take Spring/Summer 2025. At Chloé, Chemena Kamali channels dreamy seventies bohemia. Across town, Saint Laurent’s Anthony Vaccarello is deep in eighties power dressing. Hippies and yuppies, side by side — and likely swapping blazers next season.

The last time we truly had global, monolithic trends? The early 2000s — and yes, that includes skinny jeans. If they return, they’ll be one of many silhouettes, not the only option.

Breaking the Algorithm

But just because we’re offered variety doesn’t mean we’re free. “We're driven by algorithms,” Miuccia Prada admitted at her most recent show. Algorithms tell us what to like before we even want it.

And Miuccia would know — Miu Miu leads every Lyst index, and aesthetics like #preppygirl and #balletcore were born, or at least boosted, by her brand. Which is why her and Raf Simons’ latest Prada show felt like a provocation: nearly 50 looks, no repetitions. Not even the same shoes. “You can’t beat the algorithm — you have to break it,” said Vanessa Friedman of The New York Times.

Scottish designer Christopher Kane agrees. “To be a designer is to be cultural, not trendy,” he told The Financial Times. “I’d rather people hate my stuff than find it derivative.” And maybe that’s the most radical stance in a world ruled by sameness — to be uncompromising. To look left when everyone else is looking right.

Because fashion, at its best, isn’t just a mirror. It’s a response. And every new trend is, as Louženská says, “a 180-degree turn against the mainstream.”