The Illusion of Individuality

Recently, a coworker twice my age told me a story about seeing a girl at the metro station who looked just like me: same straightened brown hair, leather jacket, same cut of jeans and Nike Shox. He followed up with questions: “Why does everyone in your generation look the same?” and “Where do you even get originality from?”

This got me thinking. In a time and age where we have more access to fashion and inspiration than ever before, the opposite should be true. Instead, we look more alike than we did 50 years ago, when most wardrobes were half as full and platforms like Pinterest didn’t exist. You can see it when you look around—even in my hometown, Berlin, a city known for diversity and fashion. Despite everyone being accepted the way they are, clichés are taking over, and we’re constantly trying to out-individualise each other without any real success.

How did we lose our originality?

Even though we have more access to information and inspiration than ever—through magazines, social media and fashion platforms—this might actually be our curse: curated algorithms and brand strategies that monetise our desire to be original. Think about it. We have millions of “niches” on TikTok and Pinterest, and yet everyone in that niche ends up looking the same, because we all want to “belong” while trying to be as individual as the niche we work so hard to be part of. Whether it’s “High Fashion”, with everybody and their mother wearing Tabis, the “Clean Girl“ slick-back, or “Dark Feminine” eye makeup—we’re so devoted to achieving a certain aesthetic, dictated to us by algorithms, that we end up throwing our creativity overboard. And we forget that we’re not the only ones seeing this inspiration—it’s being shown to millions of others, too.

It’s almost like we’ve unlearned how to take inspiration from the real world, putting all our trust in screens to tell us what we like and how we’re supposed to look. Talk about the conflict between wanting to fit in and the desire to stand out.

I’ve fallen victim to this myself, multiple times—hence why my coworker probably asked me the question. Even my beloved sparkly designed acrylics aren’t individual anymore; these days, it seems rarer to see a simple colour than 3D flowers on a glittery French tip.

In the end, the answer is pretty obvious. Unlimited access has killed our originality and made our brains lazy. Being original takes effort and authentic creativity. Surrounded by codified aesthetics and micro-trends, we’ve kind of unlearned how to take inspiration from posts and creators—and instead, we just copy them 1:1.

Generations before us had to work with what they could get. Inspiration came from magazines that had to be bought and read, or fashion shows that had to be watched.

These days, all it takes is a scroll on TikTok and a few clicks, and we can have the exact same outfit—or a dupe of our favourite celebrity’s look—delivered to our front door. And when you consider how standardised beauty ideals have become, it’s no wonder we all end up looking the same.

Of course, there’s still authenticity in the world—just less visible: creative upcoming designers, niche subcultures, and individuals who couldn’t care less about the latest micro-trend. It’s just that they exist beneath the surface, less present on social media, far from any kind of algorithm. It’s in our hands to change that, and to celebrate originality again.

So how can we become original again?
We all ask in unison.

While there’s no single “right” answer—and I’d suggest everyone takes their own approach—here’s what I’m doing to actively break free from the illusion of individuality.

I’ve started watching films from different eras and getting inspired by what the characters are wearing. I’m not talking about Mean Girls or any common rom-com. I mean old classics—even silent films if you must. I promise you’ll find something, as long as it doesn’t come with a shopping link attached to it.

I’ve also made a point of people-watching more. Whether in my own city or, even better, abroad, I look at what people outside my generation are wearing, how they carry themselves, how they style their hair. That way, I can figure out what I genuinely like—far removed from perfectly curated outfits and 20% influencer discounts.

I try to dive deeper into various subcultures or designers and take inspiration from as many different sources as possible. Then I use my imagination.

Sometimes, I even look through my parents’ wardrobes—judgement-free, though I admit that can be hard. I ask them what they used to wear back in the day, and look at old photos. It’s honestly one of the best ways to get a feel for how fashion really used to look.

No matter what I come up with, I try to trust myself. I actively use critical thinking when looking at trends, tap into creativity, and make an effort. You don’t have to be super extra. Just true to yourself.
Unique—but this time, for real.

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