Haul Culture

BY ELIZABETH SLEIN

Beyond the performance of fiery foliage falling from our trees and the seasonal debut of pumpkin flavored treats, the autumnal shift signals something else. Yet another dawn of fall fashion. New trends, new clothes, new personas. It’s time to break out our sweaters and coziest aesthetics. Fall fashion hauls flood our feeds. It’s time to burn money like a new cinnamon apple candle. With the changing weather, we become acutely aware of our wardrobes. We suddenly feel like we have nothing to wear. Our closet is depleted and lacking, an issue that must be fixed immediately. We hop onto our computers, maneuver the cursor up to the search engine, and type in the web addresses that will take us to the trend hubs. Enveloped by curiosity to see if they’re running any deals. We place an order for 12 things, it’s only 200 dollars- what a steal! We breathe a sigh of relief and tell ourselves we are now complete. We are in need of nothing more. We justify the cost by saying we’ll never shop again… or at least not for a while. And we mean it. We rest easy... Until a week later, when we are told, we don’t have it all. We need one more thing, oh and another thing, and another. We feel ourselves falling with the leaves again, falling back into the cycle, back into the trap, of trendy haul culture. 

Haul culture and fast fashion. It’s hard to remember a time without it. Unbeknownst to many of Gen Z, the understanding of fashion has completely changed in the past decades. The average person used to only be able to afford a few items of nice clothing a year, economically it wasn’t really feasible otherwise. Now we buy entire wardrobes in one go. We have more clothes than we can practically wear. Our closets have become evidence lockers of impulsive decisions and graveyards of dead trends. For some, they’ve been awakened to this reality through another trend itself: thrifting. Although more sustainable, both environmentally and financially, we still approach the act of shopping the same. We are still quicker to buy than to leave empty handed. We buy things we might like, but don’t love, things we want, but don’t need. All because they’re available and accessible. 

To be clear, fast fashion didn’t happen overnight. However, social media has exacerbated it. We recognize platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and Youtube as the main players in this cultural evolution. We are more interconnected, more comparative, and more insecure than ever. We are not only more updated with what our peers are purchasing and wearing and doing, but celebrities and their children too. No longer trapped in glossy, saturated covers of magazines, we see celebrities all over social media. They’re on our feeds, they’re the subject of our headlines. We have entered an era of ultra comparison and subliminal competition. We are exposed to abnormal levels of beauty and “perfection” on a day to day basis, that were always there but not always so prominent. People only had those in their immediate community to compare themselves with. Ignorance was not only bliss, but provided healthier self-esteem and confidence.

With the evolution of Youtube and vlog style videos, we see more of people’s everyday lives than ever before, but we also presume to know more than we actually do. We are both highly informed on nothingness and woefully uninformed on matters of substance. Wealth has never been more broadcasted and absorbed by audiences. Kids know more about what they're missing out on than what they have. We’ve tried to reset the balance by turning gratitude into a trend. Gratitude both as an attitude and as an action. From trends of mindfulness and journaling to minimalism, decluttering and donating. But these more positive trends are trends nonetheless, and as is the nature of trends, they will likely be short lived. 

What’s also becoming increasingly difficult is how to discern genuineness and authenticity on social media. Many have acquired social media skills and expertise equivalent to college degrees. We’ve each become our own best actors, delivering performances in our curated personas. With our never-ending trend cycles, we’ve also made trendy certain behaviors and styles that weren’t before. Quirkiness and individuality, having become the most recent trends, it’s hard to tell if we’re all finally expressing ourselves or merely pretending to, as we pander to group think. It’s especially confusing when we consider that these trends used to be markers of cultural outcasts and nonconformists. 

Now, don’t get me wrong, it can be very hard to tell where the trend ends and where you begin. We don’t live in a vacuum. It’s normal to be inspired by others, and in that way I think we’re all well-meaning. But the unfortunate dilemma is that now that we’ve repurposed previously eccentric styles, ironically turning originality into a trend, it’s now become confusing whose motives are what. Those who’ve always marched to the beat of their own drum, are now caught off guard by false indicators of others’ personalities. We’ve manipulated the social signals that we all depend on to create relationships with kindred spirits. And for what? A temporary gain. I understand the rush of a trend. Of truly believing you’re in love with it, you’ll never tire of it. But trends are to fashion staples what infatuation is to love. It’s intense at first, but truthfully it will fizzle out, and be no more than a fashion faux pas in a faded photograph. You didn’t love it at a point and you won’t love it at a point, as that is how the trend cycle goes. 

So what are we left with? Ourselves. Who are we when we only buy the things we absolutely love? Are we more honest with ourselves? Are we more self expressive? Are we more visibly vulnerable, when we wear only our favorite pieces of clothing? Stepping away from half-hearted style decisions to, instead, dress with unapologetic conviction. Owning our style as it is, not chasing what trends say it should be or would be if we bought just one more thing. Are we bold enough for that? To wear our heart on our ever changing sleeves?