everyone is a ‘fashion mf’
I’ll start by saying this: I would love to be a fashion MF. It's the dream, actually. But I’m not—at least not yet. In recent years, I’ve been paying closer attention to fashion, slowly finding my own voice through it and learning more about streetwear culture. I’ve developed a deep respect for how fashion can be used as expression, identity, even rebellion. But here’s the truth: I still haven’t cracked the code when it comes to translating that into my own wardrobe. No matter how many dudes I follow who can put together a good fit, it hasn’t quite clicked for me.
And that’s where this tension lives—because the reality is, most of us can put together a good outfit. Fashion has never been more accessible. There’s an outfit formula for everyone, a style guide, a Pinterest board, a TikTok carousel. Everyone’s a fashion person now. Everyone’s giving advice. Everyone’s dressed… well. But is anyone really saying anything?
I don’t want to start shit, but I’ll be honest: fashion used to be shaped by a few who not only kept a pulse on culture but actually pushed it forward. Today, it feels like we’re all just following each other in circles. We’ve entered the age of the microtrend—where aesthetics go viral one week and die the next.
Social media is the biggest culprit here. Instagram, TikTok, and Pinterest have completely transformed the fashion landscape. Once, fashion was dictated by designers and stylists who studied the craft. Now, it’s driven by algorithms. The average person can share their style with the world—and that’s beautiful in theory. The democratization of fashion has opened the door to more people, more body types, more cultures, more stories. But with that comes the risk: fashion advice is everywhere, but true expertise is rare. Everyone knows how to dress—yet somehow, everyone dresses the same.
It’s like we’re all wearing the same outfit in different fonts. Archival Margiela or Zara dupes. Thrifted cargos or new-season Jaded London. The fit changes, but the formula doesn’t. Style has become cosplay. Self-expression, diluted.
And hey—if copying a trend makes someone look good and feel good, more power to them. But I can’t help but wonder… if we’re all just copying each other, who’s moving fashion forward? Who’s brave enough to not look like everyone else?
Maybe that’s part of my own frustration—I’ve realized I haven’t actually learned that much about fashion just by looking at good fits. A clean outfit doesn’t teach you why it works, how silhouettes play with proportion, how layering changes the structure of a look, or what pieces you need to feel like you.
I’ve spent so much time consuming style content but not enough time understanding my own body in clothes. I haven’t figured out what shapes make me feel confident, what textures I’m drawn to, or what story I want my wardrobe to tell. I’ve focused on the outcome—the finished outfit—instead of the process. And maybe that's what separates fashion people from fashion MF’s: they aren’t just copying. They understand. They experiment. They study the form, not just the aesthetic.
So maybe this whole wave of sameness isn’t about people being fake—it’s about a generation learning how to express itself visually in public, without the tools to do so with depth. And that’s where I want to go next. Less about what looks cool. More about what feels like me. Less about the hype, more about the why.
Because if fashion really is a language, I want to stop copying phrases and start writing my own sentences.
