90s Model Thinness and Minimalism are Back

by Eva Fournel | Photography by Nefeli Koutsouki

The trend cycle is vicious, yet predictable.

Supermodel glamor and heroin-chic thinness is back. Minimalism, in more than one sense, is back. The sleek, chic, and timelessly feminine Prada and YSL girls have returned, with a slight edge of more experimental brands like Prada’s younger sister brand, Miu Miu, Rick Owens, or Acne Studios, while also toned down with the grunge, laidback essence of Diesel and 90s Calvin Klein. High fashion brands and marketing executives have had to take notice of social media’s ability to create fashion it-girls out of instagrammable depop-selling young women. This fashion evolution has provoked a new yet familiar wave of aesthetics with today’s influential consumers and social media feeds.

Supermodel Glamour

In the 2010s, “slim-thick” seemed to be all the rage, with the Kardashians showcasing a new ‘ideal’ body type to social media–a body type to aspire to, perfect for slim fitting high waisted jeans and crop tops. Today, the Kardashians seem to be obsessed with weight loss, making it a frequent conversation on their show. Moschino’s fashion designer, Jeremy Scott, praised Khloe Kardashian’s measurements for being smaller than some of his models, while Kim Kardashian boasted about her extreme weight loss process she endured to fit into Marilyn Monroe’s dress for the Met Gala. The kicker: Rumors have speculated of Kim Kardashian getting her BBL removed! While this all may sound like ridiculous pop culture fanaticism, it would be naive to deny the level of influence the Kardashians have on today’s beauty standards, or at least their up-to-date participation in promoting those standards.

The glamor of the early 1990s supermodel highlights the glamor of the pieces themselves- clean and dewy makeup, sleek and natural hairstyles, and minimal accessories. During the COVID-19 pandemic and the early 2021 readaptative postpeak pandemic, maximalism thrived as people were missing the opportunities for creativity and going out, and soon after lockdown, relishing in them once again and with a BANG! This period was highly inspired by early 2000s hyper-feminine fashion girls, showcasing items that screamed Y2K, like bedazzled jeans and belts, quirky baby tees, and pink. Now, we’ve regressed back to an era of the 90s and early 2000s, that showcased supermodels and high fashion mystery girls, as opposed to campy caricature inspirations like Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, or even Snooki. Instead we turn to glamorous icons like Naomi Campbell, Carla Bruni, and Christy Turlington.

However, the pandemic also bred the ‘That Girl’ trend was an aspirational lifestyle that romanticized the simpler parts of life in lockdown as it promoted illusions of wellness and selfimprovement in the forms of diet, fitness, skincare, and ‘fulfilling habits’ like reading or journaling. If the ‘That Girl,’ alluding to the aesthetics of brands like Aritzia, Brandy Melville and Djerf Avenue, had a baby with the hyper-feminine pro-maximalist, collecting inspiration from brands like Babyfat and Juicy Couture, it would be the girl who aspires for the ‘Supermodel Glamor’ look–sleek, clean, and sophisticated, but up to date with her fashion history knowledge. While I apologize for categorizing it like I see it, consider that as an oversimplified generalization of how trends can birth or rebirth at the same time and meet in the middle to create a ‘new’ trend that will inevitably undergo the same process.

The ‘Supermodel Glamor’ aesthetic is attached to the conventional ‘supermodel’ look. We may be regressing. In 2022, brands like Old Navy and Loft ditched their plus-size collections, and numerous other brands continue to under-prioritize their plus-size customers. In 2016, when plus-size model Ashley Graham landed her 2016 Sports Illustrated swimsuit cover, I think we had some hope for increasing size inclusivity in the modeling industry. It looked as though plus-size models were finally being considered and booked for more runways and campaigns. However, it’s moments like these that make these women appear tokenized and those big steps in the industry, seem insincere, although necessary.

Heroin Chic

Heroin chic is back. A simple white wife beater with a pair of low rise jeans and a bare face conveys the look. Beyond that, there’s extreme thinness, dark undereye circles, pale skin, and thin hair aligning with the mid-1990s rise in heroin usage. At the time, while heroin was initially being used in more lower class society, it started going up the ladder, becoming purer and being marketed as a party/escapism drug to the middle class. It appealed to the grunge scene which reflected depression, self-loathing, and pain, while also appealing to the 90s supermodel party girl scene, like the infamous Kate Moss, nicknamed “Cocaine Kate,” or other models like Jaime King and Gia Carangi.

The ‘toxic’ misunderstood femme fatale is a seemingly growing genre in popular media. Today, we are rereading novels like The Bell Jar, Girl Interrupted, and My Year of Rest and Relaxation and we listen to Lana Del Rey and Fiona Apple (very well great novels and great artists). Social media often has a way of grouping niche interests like the fashion, music, literature, and media we consume or aspire to consume into subcategories to define a female identity. It’s almost as if our mental health was so inexplicable even to ourselves, that we grip on to these cultural trends as a way to implicitly ‘come out’ about our mental health or even just our interests to society- we somehow find community or a sense of personal validation in something as deranged as our ‘vibe’.

We have TikTok edits iconizing Effy from Skins or Amy Dunne from Gone Girl- we romanticize mental health issues and suffering and have a fascination with the media’s poster girls for it. Emotionally, these characters can be compared with some level of deeper analysis. Physically, it doesn’t take long to spot the patterns. Take a look at Susanna from the movie, Girl, Interrupted, and Effy, from Skins, or Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction. Thin, white, european features, and tired. While these characters don’t all necessarily do heroin, heroin chic groups together emotional and physical characteristics into an aesthetic. Social media has algorithmically assigned these characteristics to certain fashion and lifestyle trends which inspire consumers and create influencers that see the trend’s algorithm, appreciate it, and inevitably promote it.

Kate Moss’s iconic Calvin Klein campaign could parallel Bella Hadid’s viral spray-on Coperni dress– a minimalistic look highlighting the thinness and structural features of the model.

Minimalism

The minimalism presented in the glamor of ‘don’t let the dress wear you, you wear the dress’ and the heroin chic style of ‘I just woke up like this’ is bred in thinness. Minimalism is frequently praised, but often refuted with the ‘is in an outfit or is she just skinny’ argument.

This resurgence of 90s model thinness ties in with minimalism because minimalism emphasizes foundations– the foundation is the body underneath that plain white wifebeater of that plain black mini dress. As chronically online as this may sound, I recently saw a TikTok discussing a growing trend of not wearing necklaces. What would this kind of minimalism highlight? Collarbones. What would low rise jeans and a wife beater highlight? A flat stomach, waist, long arms, and collarbones. Minimizing accessories emphasizes bone structure.

Weight loss pills like Ozempic (initially a drug used to treat diabetes) have gained mass popularity in Hollywood and online. On TikTok, #Ozempic has over 612.4 million views. Vanity Fair covered Ozempic’s popularity with A-list celebrities in an interview with a registered dietitian who has seen clients in Hollywood for over 25 years, and she revealed that the pill’s demand had risen with celebrities who required no medical assistance pertaining to severe weight or health issues. Beyond diet and fitness, people are seeking extreme outside methods to achieve thinness.

2014-2018 was the peak of makeup gurus like Jaclyn Hill and Nikkietutorials, promoting heavy, matte makeup looks. Then, the pandemic saw a peak in experimentation with colorful eyeliner colors, wing liner, and the early 2000s overlined lip liner look. Now, Instead of funky makeup looks, we want to appear to have almost no makeup on at all. Dewey, not matte. Brushed brows with no products or small thin brows, not boxy. With the emphasis of the foundation, skincare has become more important than ever. The ‘That Girl’ trend from the pandemic was an early sign, with an overload of skincare routines and collections. It-girls traded in their MAC foundation for The Ordinary’s hyaluronic acid and Drunk Elephant’s Babyfacial mask.

Reflect

I suppose it’s easier to say ‘less is more’ when society already praises you for having less. Less fat, or even less acne. Saying that 90s Model thinness is back is perhaps an exaggeration, because ‘thin’ has been a predominant beauty standard long enough. Although, I encourage us to be mindful of the role ‘thin’ plays– how predominant is thinness in the fashion trends we admire, in the media we consume, or in the women we iconize? I encourage us to reflect not only on thinness’s presence and rising influence in our consumed media or on our feeds, but further, its presence in our self-image, aspirations, and identity. If we aren’t careful, we may inevitably be no more than products of our influences- perhaps that’s inevitable.