Words: Marie Petit Grigoreva (she/her)
‘So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.’ – Robert Frost, poet.
The weather is getting crisp, trees are turning orange, and “BRAT summer” is over. The playfulness of “BRAT”, an aesthetic trend that emerged soon after the release of Charli XCX’s eponymous album, has been replaced by the modesty of “demure autumn”. The trend is dead; long live the trend.
The buzzword was coined by Jools Lebron, an American content creator who recently went viral on TikTok for pointing out her ‘mindful and demure’ work outfit and makeup. It never takes long to create a trend: as her video gained shares and likes, the phrase got famous, prompting Lebron to trademark it for advertising purposes. Together, these words are snappy and striking, and their meanings are intrinsically linked. According to the Cambridge Dictionary, ‘mindful’ means being deliberately aware of oneself and aspiring to calmness, while ‘demure’ denotes being quiet and reserved. Lebron’s TikTok perfectly expresses the essence of the words: she emphasises looking ‘presentable’ at work with minimalistic makeup and a personal, delicate style. The catchphrase then evolved into a kind of motto among social media users, quickly spreading to accounts at the top of the social media food chain, like Kim Kardashian and Lindsay Lohan. Jools Lebron’s original statement was harmless, encouraging modesty in an age of toxic positivity and exuberance. But, like all social media sensations, it was quickly degraded into a marketing tool and its innocence was corrupted.
The notion of demureness and mindfulness being milked by corporate greed is inherently paradoxical. How can a fleeting, transient trend truly embody the quality of being demure? How can a catchy slogan capture modesty?
While “BRAT Summer” glorified wild parties, “demure autumn” embraces a slower, step-by-step approach to life. But despite their differing principles, both trends have become seasonal labels which influence fashion, home decor, and even food consumption. Trends change at the snap of a finger. This autumn is all about the resurgence of 90s minimalism as influencers cosy up with books at their favourite coffee shops. It’s a whole vibe – but, sorry to break your pumpkin spiced bubble, it’s nothing groundbreaking. It’s no more than a clever marketing tool to push the usual autumn staples: candles, blankets, wool jumpers, and tartan skirts. The classics, repackaged, and served right back to us to feed our insatiable appetite for rebranding the old.
The trend turns away from being loud or exaggerated yet, ironically, it heavily influences our behaviour. As I swipe through my Instagram feed, I see countless intricately designed videos of people aestheticising the simple things in life: boiling a kettle and pouring tea into a cutesie enamel cup; baking cinnamon rolls on a rainy day; writing in their wellness journal. We are caught in a cycle of simplicity that’s anything but simple. The trend celebrates longevity and mindfulness yet constantly tempts us to stock up on “essentials”.
This new trend raises interesting questions about personal taste. One might argue that the cool breeze of autumn naturally urges us to seek comfort and cosiness. But do such feelings find true fulfilment in Yankee Candles and new pairs of UGGs? And, most of all, isn’t it ironic that “demure autumn” compels us to perform and showcase our materialistic behaviours? In the age of social media, the line between personal taste and trends has become increasingly blurred. In his Social Critique of Judgement and Taste (1979), the French philosopher Bourdieu argues that tastes are the product of our social class conditionings. In this context, trends shape our tastes by creating constant desire and hunger for new things. We always want more, and the grass always seems greener elsewhere. Influencers film themselves reading the same viral books, promoting objects that will supposedly quench your thirst for new until you find the next thing that catches your eye. Very demure, very mindful, and I cannot help but wonder what plain regular trousers I could add to my already very full wardrobe.
Bourdieu goes even further, suggesting that taste is a marker of social class. Social media blurs the lines between social classes by serving as platforms where everyone appears on an equal footing. However, this is all superficial, as the dominant classes subtly dictate trends and content. “Demure autumn” isn’t as neutral as it seems. Beneath its surface lies the praise of quiet luxury, steeped in the old money aesthetic disguised as mindfulness and modesty. Thinking back on 90s minimalism, the entire fashion aesthetic promoted quality over quantity, skilfully encouraging the purchase of expensive good-quality items. As influencers urge you to buy woollen cashmere turtlenecks, marketed as long-lasting and mindful fashion choices, ask yourself: can everyone make such significant investments? Must we all conform to these high-brow aesthetic ideals?
In the context of the digital world, trends seem to become a powerful tool in uniting us. We don’t have the same means, but we all desire the same things. But, as we learnt from Bourdieu, tastes and our expressions of individuality are inherently a social product. By adapting our tastes to trends we eliminate our personality: we mirror our friends; we dress however the zeitgeist dresses; we align our desires with everyone else’s. Essentially, we are putting on a show.
The whole “mindful and demure” trend isn’t harmless. Jools Lebron isn’t physically chasing you with a stick to make you behave modestly. Rather, the trend has a social function: it pushes us to perform and aestheticise for others. What makes us who we are if our aesthetic appetite evolves with the undulating current of trends? What within us is authentic, and what is unconscious social performance? In an era of constant change, being satiated through a rejection of trends is a revolutionary act.
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cm23zye08j4o
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cwyj2y7ggd7o
Bourdieu, P. (1984). Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. Harvard University Press.
https://www.vogue.co.uk/fashion/article/90s-minimalist-outfits
Very interesting take, and will written article. I praise you on that. I do want to note though, that for me, Demure Autumn is just a reinvention of Pumpkin Spice Latte Fall or Marrons Chaud Weather (which are actually Châtaignes but that’s another argument), and as you say note pointedly, is all just a marketing gimmick when everything and every aesthetic is for sale, one way or another. I don’t feel united by trends, I feel alienates by the lack of individualism, or rather selfish being becoming so mainstream that we’re even more copies of eachother than ever. Thanks for opening the reflection!