On TikTok, most people’s feeds are flooded with product reviews that encourage impulse buying: “This Amazon bodysuit on sale is a must-buy.” “This cult-favorite travel pillow is worth the hype!” “Yes, it’s $600 but this Dyson blow-dryer will change your life.”
Then there’s “underconsumption core.” The new viral trend on TikTok encourages consumers to be a little less spend-happy and more conscientious about what they bring into their homes.
It’s garnered plenty of attention off-platform, too: Google searches for “underconsumption core” have surged by 1150% in the last few weeks, according to the digital marketing firm Webbee.
April Silva, a TikTok user and lifelong thrift store fan, is a big proponent of underconsumption core. She defines it as a more minimal approach to shopping: You don’t need five winter coats when you have one perfectly good one. You don’t need every color of Stanley cup or “massive Shein hauls just for content,” she said.
“Most of the clothing you see in people’s clothing haul are just trend pieces and it won’t hold up in your closet over time, and I say this as someone who likes fashion,” Silva told HuffPost. “What I choose to spend my hard-earned money on matters and I try to be smarter about it every day, and that’s what this trend is about for me.”
Instead of pressing “buy now” on hyped products, underconsumption-core adherents lean into capsule wardrobes (basically, buying pieces of clothing and accessories that are easy to mix and match), using makeup until it’s “down to pan” (finishing the entirety of the product until you hit the pan of the compact), and shopping secondhand whenever possible.
In many ways, underconsumption core is the spiritual sister of another recent trend: deinfluencing, where social media influencers try to dissuade followers from buying cult-favorite products they’ve had lackluster experiences with.
Both fall into what might be called “recession-core influencing”: When money is tight and the costs of living and rent are going up, who can stomach buying a $42 highlighter? (As one person joked on TikTok: “Underconsumption core but it’s actually the reality of living under the poverty line.”)
Shelby Orme, a sustainable living influencer from Austin, Texas, thinks the trend is “100%” a direct response to our current economic situation.
“I think it’s that and a response to the constant exposure to perfectly curated homes and wardrobes all over our For You pages,” she said. “I would also add that the insidious introduction of TikTok Shop [which lets brands and sellers sell directly on the platform] has added to the frustration.”
Trends like these tend to be cyclical, said Jessie Kosak, an instructor at Arizona State University’s Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising. (Remember a few years ago, when everyone was into Marie Kondo and trashing items that didn’t “spark joy”?)
Kosak, a millennial, remembers a version of underconsumption core that was simply called “minimalism.”
“That was admittedly was flawed from the start, because it implies a specific aesthetic that becomes more and more difficult to adhere to,” she said. “With trends like this, people sometimes swap one form of consumption for another.”
Kosak isn’t surprised that Gen Z, a demographic whose members grew up inundated with ads for stuff they didn’t need, is embracing a “consume only what you need” mindset.
“They’re constantly targeted by advertising and conditioned to want more stuff, but I think as each generation grows, they realize they just don’t need all of it,” Kosak said.
Gen Z is also keenly aware of environmental issues that fast fashion plays a direct role in, like greenhouse gas emissions and garment manufacturing processes that harm wildlife, degrade land and pollute soil and water. That’s a huge deal for Gen Zers: A recent Pew study shows that 76% of Gen Zers are worried about climate change, with 37% saying it’s their biggest concern of all.
Jennifer Bertling, who runs a TikTok account about her Chihuahua mix Milly, also thinks Gen Z is leading the charge. That said, she told HuffPost that her boomer parents practiced what might now be called underconsumption core, moving their family to a self-sustaining off-grid farm run entirely on wind and solar power on Canada’s Prince Edward Island when Bertling was a teenager.
Now, living in Los Angeles with Milly, Bertling said she tries to live simply, and takes satisfaction in giving things a second life.
“Especially here in L.A., which is a transient city that people are constantly moving into and out of places, there’s very little need to buy new,” Bertling said, adding that she’s part of several local “Buy Nothing” groups on Facebook.
“Another example is, my elderly neighbor was moving out and he told me his biggest fear was for his things to end up discarded on the sidewalk in a pile,” she said. “I took a leather couch off his hands, and it brings me great joy to have given this couch another life.”
Bertling also tries to limit her food waste as much as possible, using leftover scraps to make vegetable or bone broth and freezing anything that’s about to expire for a later meal. Even Milly still has the same blanket she got when she was first brought home.
“It’s not aesthetic, but it’s hers,” Bertling said in an “Underconsumption Core: Dog Mom edition” video on TikTok.
The trend could help people curb their emotional spending, but there are some criticisms
Christina Mychaskiw, a content creator and co-host of the “Sustain This!” podcast, said she appreciates the latest “less is more” trend because she knows the toll that addictive shopping can take on young people.
Online, Mychaskiw is open about how difficult it was to get out from under her student debt because of her emotional spending habits. On her YouTube channel, she chronicled her “no buy” year, a period when she only bought essentials: food and certain items of clothing when necessary.
In that year, she learned that, like many people, she was consuming more than she really needed, spending emotionally to relieve things like boredom, and shopping for an idealized “fantasy” version of herself, rather than for who she was in the moment.
“I think this trend speaks to that,” Mychaskiw said. “What you should be doing is curating your life with the things you love, buying things with intention and being mindful of what you bring in next.”
As underconsumption core has taken off, Mychaskiw thinks this aspect of the trend has gotten away from people. Some TikTok users are making it a competition about who can live the most bare-bones life.
“I’ve seen some videos of things where I’m like, ‘Hm, maybe that’s a fire hazard to not replace that thing,’” she said. “There’s a video of a woman sharing her sustainable life, and people were like, ‘Well, your fridge is so full so you’re not underconsumption core,’ and ‘You have kids so you’re not underconsumption core.’”
“We all have our version of how to be a better consumer,” Mychaskiw said. “It’s not about getting rid of everything for the sake of getting rid of things.”
Kosak agrees that just chucking all your stuff into a donation bin isn’t the goal. Instead, she hopes people use the underconsumption core trend as a catalyst to examine their needs and gravitate toward pieces that are emotionally durable ― purchases that are meant to be cherished and kept, thus reducing consumption and waste of natural resources.
It’s not necessarily easy to make that kind of shift in your relationship with shopping. But Kosak said it’s worth it.
“We are constantly conditioned to compare ourselves to others, and on some level it’s easier than looking inward for self-actualization,” she said. “Whether it’s a sweater that we see on an influencer or a new trend on TikTok, rather than jumping all in, I think it’s always better to step back and ask yourself: ‘What part of this is appealing to me, and why?’”
