An article by Lucia Sprague
“POV: You’re not ugly, you just need… Korean skincare, Indian haircare, Arab perfumes, African body care, Brazilian haircare, Asian diet, and MONEY.”
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This is quoted from a TikTok posted in January 2025 with 1.8 million views, 203.8K likes, and 41.5K saves. Despite the video being almost more than a year old, the trend of culture as consumerism has seemingly just begun. Hundreds of online users make extra spending money by directing their audiences to the infamous orange shopping cart, often claiming whatever cultural product they’re selling has “changed their life.”
Oftentimes, those products have some sort of backstory. Many times, said backstory is disregarded in favor of pushing a shiny new trend. Did you know your Tik Tok Shop waist beads were once worn in antiquity by women of African and Egyptian origin? They were seen as symbols of status and beauty, and were used in various feminine rites of passage as well as rituals surrounding love, marriage, and family (Kindred Kinnections 2024).
I will fondly remark on my generation’s interest in heritage. Unlike the days of yore, where fitting in was seen as the only option, alternative fashion, personal style, and unique aesthetic displays have proved to champion post-COVID. I have to say, one of my favorite trends to come out of the 2020s is the wearing of traditional cultural costumes to high school spirit weeks, graduation ceremonies, etc. What can I say? I’m a sucker for anthropology. Throw an inspirational song over it and you’ve got me. Tears flowing down my face and all. You should have seen me watching the Halftime Show. I was a sight.
However, one of the most fascinating trends I’ve observed as of late is the convincing of audiences that a certain product is a necessity. I saw at least seven or eight Tik Toks in the past few weeks where different girls claim different Egyptian women put them onto a hair removal oil that just so happened to be going viral. One from April 2026 reads,
“THANK U to the Egyptian girl who put me on this hair removal oil… BITCH. I’M BALD?!!!!”
Another from May 2026 claims,
“Princess legs year round bc an Egyptian grandma told me I could use an oil to make hair stop growing. I haven’t shaved in 3 weeks.”
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Where is everyone finding these supposed oil-peddling Egyptian women?! In any event, we are seeing a huge oversaturation of influencer-driven marketing schemes, especially on apps such as Instagram and Tik Tok. It made me wonder, “Why has so-called “cultural appreciation” morphed into corporate greed?”
I believe that a proven tactic involves preying on the insecurities of young girls. Unfortunately, this is something we are far too familiar with. The hair on your head should be thick. The hair on your body should be non-existent. Your skin should be like glass. So should your hair. Thin is in nowadays. So are a million different clothing trends I can’t keep track of. If you don’t have these things, you give people the “ick.” Furthermore, despite there being more tolerance for unique and alternative aesthetics, there are still ones deemed more easily digestible that reign supreme. Oftentimes, the micro-trend cycle feeds off of shaming young women for what they lack, because you always need more.
What the rapidly-maturing Gen Alpha needs is confidence. Confidence not in what they “could be” (the looksmaxxing trend is nothing short of an epidemic) but what they already are. Ironically, a favorite quote of mine comes from a Tik Tok I saw years ago.
“Your face is a combination of thousands of people who loved each other.”
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Sentiments like this are what changed my perspective of myself in high school. Growing up, I looked different than the other kids I knew. I was constantly tanned, despite the brutal cold in Western New York. My hair was dark and coarse, and my bumpy nose stuck out far from my face. I had a thin strip of hair above my lip that persisted throughout my entire elementary school career. My legs and arms were covered in dark hair. Topping it off was a large mole next to my right eye. Kids in elementary school would sometimes use our 30 minute lunch time to debate my ethnicity. That question, that inevitable reminder that I was distinct from my blonde-haired blue-eyed classmates lived in the back of my brain for years.
“What are you?”
Each time I proclaimed in my rehearsed way, “My mother is Italian and my father is Guatemalan and Nicaraguan.” Sometimes that would end it. Other times they wouldn’t believe me, and decide that this must not be the truth. I must be something more exotic. Something darker, more foreign to them. By 13 or 14 I had dissected my entire anatomy, deciding what could go. My nose, my hard-to-pronounce name, the hair on my face.
It wasn’t until I found those communities on social media who celebrated heritage and unique beauty that I understood my worth. It took me a while, but now you couldn’t offer me a million dollars to hate the features I received from my ancestors.
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I got lucky. Influencers aren’t pushing these narratives to young people. Instead, an amalgamation of various products are what will make you beautiful— what will make you look “right.” These products rapidly move in and out of fashion, making true commitment to just one, practically impossible. Moreover, they just so happen to take inspiration from (or completely leech off of) cultures that are persecuted behind closed doors. Ironic, isn’t it?
The question of the hour is, “How do we stop ourselves from impulse buying trends that will be out of style two weeks from now, and start gaining an interest in what makes us individuals?” I will tell you what worked for me.
Start seeing the beauty in originality. Personal style is the new shiny thing these days, but I’m inclined to question just how “personal” the concept is. We have seen some more “eccentric” clothing pieces, yes, but they are regurgitated and sold to the masses who claim said pieces are distinctly special. Remember when the hot new item was that yellow crop top with “BRAZIL” written on it? People called that “Y2K.” It was different. It was cool. You wore it with low rise baggy jeans and posted it on Instagram. Soon, everyone started buying them with their own country’s name on it. A few months later it was deemed “cheugy,” and now you can buy them on SHEIN for $6.29.
Are these trends real cultural celebration, or consumerism masquerading as it?
As a self-diagnosed Pinterest addict, I find interesting and unique fashion concepts every day. I’m seeing traditional costumes re-styled as modern streetwear. I’m seeing hair decorations hyperspecific to a certain culture. I’m seeing traditional jewelry (I’m a sucker for bangles), natural hairstyles, culture-inspired editorial shoots, fashion used as storytelling.
I love seeing girls wear their mothers’ wedding dresses. I love hand-me-downs. I keep every piece of jewelry the women in my family have gifted me that they wore at my age. Research your culture. Read an article about it. Look at some pictures online. What are they wearing?
I can promise you one thing. This is true reverence of individuality in conjunction with ancestry. We must seek to find beauty in what separates us from others. Everyone has a story. The journeys and lives of our families, our ancestors, are prequels to our own stories. When we reflect those experiences in what we adorn our bodies with, we not only make them proud, but also honor ourselves.
And please, for the love of God, if you want to participate in a culture-inspired trend, support a small business! Nothing is more special than owning something authentic. Your “viral gold waist chain” from Edikted will tarnish after a week.
xx
Lucia
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