They say fashion is cyclical. In fact, they say the trend cycle is 20 years. “They” being trend forecasters (yeah, I know—“How do I get that gig”?). What we were rocking 2 decades ago reappears in current collections with a subtle change in silhouette—just enough tweaking to qualify as “new.” Take a look at this year’s runways or your TikTok FYP: the fur coat-laden “mob wife aesthetic” a la 2004 Carmela Soprano reigns supreme. The bright and bold Y2K velour tracksuits are back with a bedazzled vengeance. Smokey-eyed “rockstar girlfriends” give Kate Hudson circa Almost Famous a run for her money. A war of “-cores” rages on today, thrifted leopard print and straight-leg denim on the frontlines, and I’ve begun to realize fashion is not too far from the factional fashion of my millennial elders.
Rewind to the eccentric hipster individuality of the early ‘10s: the Zooey Deschanel Twee, handlebar mustaches, lumberjack flannels, and army print veering on the edge of Indie sleaze. Everyone looked like Mumford or one of his sons. Polaroid cameras and other forms of performative “vintage” became tote bag necessities. Indie god, Alexa Chung just dropped her millennial pink-wrapped tome, It, to the deafening cheer of teenage girls everywhere, myself included. Hotspots Williamsburg, Brooklyn, Shoreditch, London, Silver Lake, Los Angeles and Kreuzberg, Berlin became synonymous with homemade kombucha and man buns. These were entire communities of people who insisted they dressed “differently,” yet still, somehow, all looked exactly the same. Fascinating. Originally just a style descriptor, the term “hipster” became so broad that it began to lose its meaning, morphing into a synonym for “try hard” rather than actual fashion.
And as a scoff in the face of Crackle manicures and Dr. Martens, Normcore arrived.
Scratch that—to say it “arrived” is a stretch. The style of dress had always existed (dressing in basics), but the World Wide Web finally recognized it as its own entity. Think tried-and-true Levi's® denim—the kind that transcends social status or style “rules.” They’re just good ol’ jeans, point blank, period. To add to the mix: chunky-soled Dad sneakers, baseball caps, windbreakers. The goal was to look like you shared a wardrobe with Jerry Seinfeld.
Coined by New York-based trend forecasting collective, K-HOLE, Normcore was not just a dress code, but a code of conduct. K-HOLE described it along the lines of “finding liberation in being nothing special.” It was an “anti” attitude: to wholeheartedly embrace sameness as opposed to vehemently rejecting it like their hipster counterparts. Blending in was hot, trying too hard (or being perceived as such!) was not. The subscribers to Normcore (I most prefer “Normies”), overflowing with self-awareness and social cynicism, preached their heresy via uniform. Normcore devotees eschewed fashion trends for an OG capsule wardrobe of sorts. “Who cares if you liked that indie rock band before they were cool?,” their plain cotton tees shouted!“Just because you’re vegan doesn’t mean you’re better than me!,” their fanny packs yelled. Normcore pointed in the face of every Hipster and cried, “Why can’t we all just be, ahem, normal?”
The girls in Galaxy print leggings recoiled.
Which brings us back to the talk of “aesthetics” in 2024. It’s a brave new world out here, but a lot of the tenets of trends impressively remain the same as the time of our hipster predecessors. However, we’re way more digitally driven than ever. A new “aesthetic” arrives each week. Fast fashion is nearing its consumerist peak—thanks to TikTok and our 8-second attention spans, trends are being pumped out quicker than the standard 20-year cycle. It’s only natural we are witnessing the resurgence of the anti-trend trend: Normcore 2.0, with Levi’s at the forefront.
A chameleon of a brand, Levi’s finds itself within the folds of every “aesthetic” in every decade. They’re the perfect blank slate—change the rise, add a raw hemline and suddenly a whole statement is made on the times. Think about it: the 60s wouldn’t have been the 60s without their bell bottoms. The 90s wouldn’t have been the 90s without Cindy Crawford’s Daisy Dukes. And, of course, the 2010s’ Indie Sleaze couldn’t have existed without its foil, Normcore—clad in Levi’s.
In honor of its revival, Levi’s and Highsnobiety tapped Normcore poster boy and social media style savant, Mark Boutilier to formulate staple looks from Levi’s latest. To the tune of a nearly 300K following, Boutillier regularly dishes out OOTD inspo and insight into the buzziest subcultures of fashion today. Styled in 568 Loose Lightweight Jeans, a crisp white relaxed-fit button-down, and the boxy-cut utilitarian-inspired Sunrise Jacket, Boutillier delivers an impromptu lesson on the new era of Normcore.
The ensemble today remains largely the same, albeit with just a smidge more oversizing. The first ingredient: a trusted pair of blue Levi’s denim—the gold standard for casual cool denim since 1873. They come with that naturally lived-in, I-wear-this-everyday feel because there’s nothing “uncooler” than a starched, “I’m-just-wearing-these-once-for-a-pic” fit. Remember: Normcore 2.0 is about establishing your daily uniform. Paired on top is a cotton tee and one extra layer for warmth or maybe to tie around your waist. Take your pick: a loose-fitting flannel like the Jackson Worker Overshirt, a fur-trimmed Sherpa Trucker jacket, or a utilitarian-esque button up like the Masonic Patch Pocket Overshirt.
And with the shift of the tides or rather the shift of a vintage Rock tee to a strangely understated crewneck sweater, we bear witness to the resurrection of Normcore. Millennials have officially handed us fashion’s longstanding crux—hipster vs. normie. Sigh. Does it ever end?
