Fashion’s language is now made of memes

The fashion system, in recent years, has adopted (perhaps by chance, or perhaps out of necessity) more democratic and popular communication methods. Memes have become the industry's preferred language: once confined to the Instagram pages of fashion insiders, today they are employed by brands themselves in an attempt to refresh the traditional image of luxury and reach a younger, digitally native audience. Loewe, for example, with its strategy on TikTok, has broken the rigid social media etiquette of major fashion houses, while SSENSE has revived the starter pack format, a symbol of the golden era of Twitter and Tumblr in 2014. More than just an ironic collage, over the years, starter packs have symbolized belonging to specific aesthetics and subcultures, encoding habits, brands, and lifestyles into a single "package." As highlighted by Vogue Business, the real appeal of starter packs lies in recognizing oneself within images and objects that carry a precise meaning. Often, large meme accounts like @socks_house_meeting and @nolitadirtbag use this type of format not only to poke fun at specific elements defining fashion aesthetics but also at the most frequented neighborhoods of the fashion system.

But behind the easy irony of starter packs lies a deeper theme: the democratization of fashion leads to its homogenization. As micro trends continue to slow down, the cynical perspective on social media highlights how the sense of uniqueness is often an illusion: on one hand, fashion promotes itself as inclusive; on the other, it recycles languages and aesthetics, turning them into increasingly fast-moving and recognizable consumer products. Instead of creating new narratives, the current luxury landscape—while evolving—continually reassembles existing elements, pushing us to desire clothing or accessories that we have, in reality, already seen countless times in different contexts. As Vogue Business points out, the aesthetics of starter packs often emphasize how repetitive the trend cycle is. An item that, a few years ago, was relegated to a niche subculture suddenly becomes the core of a dominant aesthetic, such as Salomon sneakers or, more broadly, the entire gorp-core trend. Think, for example, of the Samba or Triple S sneakers: both examples of shoes that have gone through multiple trend cycles, transforming from an alternative choice to an aesthetic cliché—or, as meme language puts it, “evil doesn’t die, it reinvents itself.” This is their essence: to make us reflect on fashion’s ability to re-adapt and reintroduce the same visual formulas with new interpretations.

It is paradoxical that, just when fashion aims to express individual identities, the phenomenon of meme starter packs reveals the lack of originality in style choices. And yet, this contradiction is precisely what engages and entertains the audience: the lightness of the format merges with a critical reflection on an industry that, to keep up with the times, has become more “pop” and accessible, yet inevitably repetitive. The very idea of keeping up with trends implies following an already predetermined path, and memes do nothing but highlight this in a glaring way. This process has also changed the perception of luxury exclusivity. An exclusivity that is increasingly in crisis, marked by endless changes within brand structures, among creative directors, designers, CEOs, and more. In such a fast-paced landscape, perhaps the only solution—for those who want to stay informed as well as those who want to inform—is to make news as accessible as possible through simple and easily digestible content. Luxury brands, once reserved for a selected clientele, must now confront a broader audience that actively participates in shaping their identity through social media. The real question is: can we still talk about individuality in style, or are we all now part of a larger starter pack, ready to be shared and reshared on social media?