Originality is optional: Fashion’s quiet submission to the social media algorithm

As hyper-curated aesthetics flood our social media feeds and fashion identities emerge overnight, it prompts a timely question: Are algorithm-driven trends expanding avenues for self-expression or subtly narrowing them?

Personal style hasn’t disappeared—it just got outsourced to the feed. Open Instagram and the scroll is a flood of curated aesthetics, seasonal micro trends, and viral  identities, each moving past at a velocity that makes choice feels almost performative. Amidst this quiet choreography, a larger question looms: When so much of what is seen is shaped in advance, how much of what is chosen can still be called ‘personal’?

In a world where influencing and being influenced have collapsed into a single act, a new trend crops up online almost daily. This seismic shift—where a viral beauty launch or a trending video can ripple through India’s feeds as swiftly as it does globally—has made the sartorial landscape louder, and paradoxically, less personal. Expression might be more accessible today, but the conditions under which it emerges feel increasingly outsourced—curated, categorised, clinical, and optimised for visibility. 

Macro and micro trends anchored in algorithm logic move with the speed of the scroll itself. Fast, fleeting, and engineered for engagement, they rise and fall within weeks, leaving little room to consider whether they truly resonate. Terms like “coquette core,” “tomato girl,” and “clean girl aesthetic” pass through feeds not particularly as subcultures but as aesthetic mandates. 

Why Gen Z fashion in India is dominated by Instagram trends

But is this kind of influence entirely new? “There’s always been something influencing how young people dress,” says Pernia Qureshi, fashion entrepreneur and fashion commentator. “In the ’90s, it was Seventeen magazine, or movies like 10 Things I Hate About You. Today, it’s Instagram. The only difference is the turnaround time—it’s so much faster now.” Influence, she notes, is not inherently negative; what’s changed is the volume and velocity. "It just feels more present now, because it’s in your face all the time and you’re watching it in real time [from] all over the world.”

The question, then, is not whether we’ve always been influenced—but what this new structure of influence is doing to one’s personal style. Is this algorithmic rise of trends encouraging experimentation or simply ushering in a kind of aesthetic uniformity disguised as choice? For decades, fashion reflected personal identity, cultural belonging, and quiet rebellion. But where sartorial trends once moved through slower channels: magazines, runway shows, film previews and red carpets, they’re not shaped by opaque systems optimised for virality. Platforms like Instagram don’t just surface what’s popular—they steer it, pushing users toward collective aesthetics and compressing trend lifestyles to match engagement metrics. 

“I think algorithms and trend cycles on social media influence people the way magazines used to,” adds Qureshi. “Earlier [it was], film stars, before that beauty pageants. There is always something in the social structure of society which is going to influence young minds, it just depends on which era you are looking at.”

Fashion content creators like Riya Kohli (@theriyakohli), known for her minimalist-meets-maximalist sensibility, are navigating this tension in real time. “I’m not a fan of trends,”she says. “Can they be helpful? Yes, but only when people approach them from a perspective of finding their own style rather than making their style all about the trend. If ‘mob wife’ is trending, that’s all I see people wearing. Y2K is in? It’s everywhere already. It’s like people forget to ask themselves before hopping on a trend, ‘Is this even my style?'”

For many, style remains a canvas for self-expression—but the distinction between inspiration and imitation is increasingly blurred. “I’ve followed trends myself,” admits Kohli. “It’s so natural to start liking things that you see everyone wear and talk about. What changed it for me was just consciously asking myself if the trend aligned with my style, and more than half the time, my answer was no.” Kohli isn’t alone—her takeaway reflects a broader shift: the growing need to reclaim personal taste from the pace and pressure of the scroll. “I think people need to take a step back from blindly following trends and instead find inspiration in them,” she shares. 

Content creator Gayathri Mohan (@gayu_inkb) echoes this sentiment: “I do feel creators tend to fall into the cookie-cutter version of aesthetics, but it’s completely understandable”, she says. “With the influence of Pinterest boards and 'clean aesthetics,' I feel one’s personal style as a creator can get sidelined. But, on the flip side, because of this fast-paced consumption of media, there also exists a thirst for individuality and personal style. I don’t blame creators feeling the pressure to fit in; people are also realising the need for originality.”

Mohan’s view highlights a larger cultural contradiction: The aesthetics rewarded by algorithms are often those that conform, not challenge. It’s performative dressing, shaped neither by mood nor personal taste. “My style is very much a middle ground between masculine and feminine silhouettes and style,” she adds. “So if I find a trend going around that aligns with my style, I don’t mind trying it. Also, I always ask myself, ‘Will I wear this next year? Can I wear this style maybe more than two to three times? Do I really need this… in this economy?”.

How algorithmic fashion trends in India are shaping Gen Z’s idea of style

The pressure to remain visible, relevant, and authentic on social media has become near-constant for content creators. For Mohan, that pressure once came at the cost of her own creative satisfaction. “Of course, when starting out as a creator, I have posted performative content—I’m not above it. Almost every creator has done it. I’ve felt the pressure of wanting to grow faster as a creator,” she says. “During 2021–22, I felt completely lost and caught up… I hated my style and anything I wanted to make, because I kept thinking of how the content would perform rather than my creative satisfaction. And one day, an epiphany hit me like a truck. People will appreciate what’s good, irrespective of their views and likes. And most importantly, my creative identity will shine through.”

It’s a familiar trade-off in platform culture: creative instinct sidelined by the need to perform, exposing the mechanics of platform capitalism—content is not just consumed, it is ranked.

And when visibility becomes the goal, authenticity often becomes the trade-off. Dr. Carolyn Mair, a chartered psychologist and author of The Psychology of Fashion, points out that clothing choices impact not only public perception but also self-perception, a dynamic intensified by algorithms that reward sameness over self-expression. 

The logic extends beyond individuals to brands. For many, staying relevant means learning to play the algorithmic game. “They [brands and e-commerce platforms] are definitely looking at how to push their products, shoot their products, and how to use social media and influencers to stay relevant in the algorithm and positioning game,” says Qureshi. “At the end of the day, you need sales—so [you will do] whatever is going to drive sales, right?”

“If something gives you eyeballs—be it a Reel, a trend, an influencer push—why not use it?” asks Qureshi.“But it’s not just about selling anymore. Platforms are becoming editorial [in their approach], using social media creatively, and collaborating with influencers.” 

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In many ways, the system is subtle—by design. At Meta, content is based on early engagement, rather than whom a user follows. “At Instagram, we're committed to empowering people to express themselves and share their creativity with the world,” says a Meta spokesperson. “We've recently introduced features like Trial Reels, three-minute Reels, and new DM additions, with Edits on the horizon. Our goal is to create a platform where people feel proud to share any piece of creative content they produce. By fostering creativity and connections, we aim to inspire a new wave of self-expression on our platform.”

In terms of discoverability, the Meta spokesperson claims it has restructured its recommendation engine to give all creators “an equal chance of breaking through”—initially showing content to a small group and gradually expanding its reach based on engagement. “Instagram doesn’t have one algorithm that oversees what people do and don’t see on the app… Feed, Explore, Reels—each uses its algorithm tailored to how people use it.”

Yet, for all its stated intentions, creators understand that the system rewards immediacy and replication more often than originality. 

Today, expression operates within boundaries quietly set by online ranking algorithms and engagement metrics. Certain aesthetics rise to dominance not because they’re more resonant, but because they’re more clickable—creating the illusion of organic popularity, when much of it is engineered visibility and, in part, platform-driven. 

While fashion’s entanglement with algorithmic culture doesn’t negate its past, it does complicate how influence now operates. “I honestly think they [Gen-Z and millennials] are more trend-conscious, but I think all young people are trend-conscious,” says Qureshi. “Trends are something that have always driven the fashion industry at large.”

Over time, brands have adapted how they shape desire and market their products. “Now, as a brand, you gift your products to influencers so they can create content,” explains Qureshi. “Earlier, you would gift it to movie stars for the red carpet, or you would give it to costume designers to feature in their films.” The method has changed; the intent hasn’t. “Forming trends has always been a tool used by the fashion industry to influence the way young people shop. Today is no different; it’s just a lot more apparent because the frequency has increased due to social media,” she adds.

Qureshi resists a prescriptive view of trend participation. “I wouldn’t give anyone any advice on how to or how not to follow trends,” she says. “If young consumers feel comfortable and confident being a part of the trend… then no one should dictate to them what they should do, how they should invest their money or their time.” 

When asked if there’s still room for individuality in a system built to reward replication, Qureshi doesn’t hesitate. “There is always space for personal expression and personal style—always. People will always have the confidence to go against the grain, to do their own thing, to make their own look regardless of what’s happening.”

But while she defends personal choice, she draws the line at excess. “More than personal style, I think overconsumption is an issue,” she adds. “Whether it’s personal, or following a trend, or buying a classic, only buy a few pieces that are going to work for a very long time. And do not buy fast fashion. I think those are bigger problems.” Mohan adds, “It’s hard to maintain individual style in today’s world, but when you try to not give into wearing something everyone is wearing, you end up standing out.”

There is no singular answer to whether algorithms have flattened personal style. The more pertinent question is what agency looks like in a system engineered for imitation. Fashion has always balanced self-expression and social cues—but today the scale and speed of influence have shifted the terms entirely. 

Algorithms may introduce new aesthetics daily, but the ability to choose—deliberately, critically, mindfully—remains one of the few gestures still outside the algorithm’s control.

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