Karly

There’s a certain sickness sweeping across the internet, and no, it’s not another virus or meme trend. It’s chic. More precisely, the word “chic,” and its newfound overuse, weaponisation, and subtle tyranny over style and identity online. It’s being used as both a compliment and a cudgel. And it’s time we unpacked what’s really going on.

What started as a breezy French adjective has become something of an epidemic. “Mob wife chic.” “Clean girl aesthetic.” “Tomato girl summer.” “Fermented chic.” “Divorcee chic.” “Depression-core but make it chic.” The combinations become more absurd by the day, and each carries a subtle moral undertone: you’re either in on the joke or you’re failing spectacularly at womanhood.

Language Dressing Up as Judgement

Linguistically, “chic” is fascinating. It’s a loanword from French, and like most foreign imports in English fashion vocabulary (think haute couture, crème de la crème, déjà vu), it connotes elegance, exclusivity, and, crucially, taste. But that last one is slippery. “Taste” sounds neutral and maybe even natural, but it is culturally coded, historically loaded, and frequently wielded in classist, racist, and fatphobic ways.

Once upon a time, being chic meant you had style. Now, it might mean you own the right lip liner and burn the right-scented candle. But only if you also look like an Olivia or an Emma and live in a flat with quiet luxury vibes. The word has been hollowed out and repackaged as a kind of linguistic label-maker, stamping approval onto certain lifestyles while quietly sneering at others.

Chic is in the Eye of the Algorithm

One of the most frustrating things about this epidemic is how it’s filtered through social media. TikTok, Instagram, and Pinterest have turned “chic” into an aesthetic checkbox, a visual shorthand for entire lifestyles. You’re not just lighting a candle. You’re indulging in “bibliophile chic.” You’re not tired. You’re “delirium-chic,” complete with a moody selfie in a shadowy corner of your flat.

It’s all tongue-in-cheek, until it’s not. Because the internet is very patronising about what’s chic and what isn’t. What’s aspirational and what’s cringe. What’s effortlessly elegant and what’s trying too hard. And more often than not, the tone is condescending, especially towards young women. “Oh, you still wear skinny jeans? That’s not chic.” “You drink iced coffee from Starbucks? That’s basic, not chic.” The implicit message is clear: you’re embarrassing yourself just by existing in a way that isn’t currently trending.

This is how a word that once meant stylish has started to mean socially acceptable. It has become the vocabulary of gatekeeping.

Style as Syntax, Not Sentence

Let’s borrow from linguistics for a moment, as we like to do here at Nonsense & Lit. Think of style as syntax, not a sentence. It’s not about getting the “correct” combination of pieces. It’s about creating meaning. And like language, style evolves. It adapts. It belongs to the people who use it, not the rules someone else decided long ago.

But the “chic” epidemic ignores that. It favours a polished aesthetic that’s easily commodified and excludes anything messy, authentic, or unfiltered. The girl with chipped nail polish and a crumpled tote bag full of receipts is no longer “boho chic.” She’s just seen as disorganised. The mum in a tracksuit isn’t “normcore chic.” She’s lazy. And heaven forbid your bookshelf includes anything mass market. “Beach read chic”? Not a chance. Crocs with socks? Quelle horreur! And honestly, I’m guilty of more than of the aforementioned stereotypes (if you follow our Instagram, you got a peek at my overstuffed bag and glittery Crocs full of Jibbitz.)

The internet doesn’t just reward style. It punishes deviation from its prescribed form.

The Backlash is Inevitable and Already Here

Thankfully, some pushback has begun. There’s a growing contingent online embracing maximalism, chaos, and sincere cringe. Girls in frilly cupcake dresses. Boys with dirty sneakers and glittery eyeliner. Bookworms with overstuffed shelves and uncurated tastes. The best kind of aesthetic rebellion is one that says: I like what I like. No moodboard required.

Still, the “chic” label clings to everything like glitter you can’t hoover up. It keeps finding new ways to police expression, especially among women. Even when it’s ironic. Even when it’s supposedly empowering.

So, What Is Chic, Really?

Maybe chic isn’t a look. Maybe it’s a language. One that’s still being rewritten every day, by everyone from bored girls in bathroom mirrors to stylish grandmas and androgynous teens wearing mismatched socks. Maybe true chic is not caring if it’s chic at all.

Or maybe we stop using the word altogether and just say: “That’s cool.” “That’s you.” “That makes you feel alive.” Maybe that’s enough.

Your Turn:

What’s the most un-chic thing you love? Drop it in the comments, or even better, wear it out. Unironically.