The 21st century promised us more individuality than ever. The internet, social media, and the so-called democratisation of culture were meant to flatten hierarchies of taste. Everyone, theoretically, could be a tastemaker, a micro-influencer, a unique voice in the endless digital chorus. But two decades into this experiment, something strange has happened: instead of flourishing individuality, we are watching the slow death of individual thought, sacrificed on the altar of groupthink.
This phenomenon is no longer contained to the much-scrutinised corners of incel forums or red-pill enclaves, where ideological leaders dictate thought and disciples repeat it verbatim. Groupthink is now mainstream and deeply gendered. Increasingly, women too are requiring validation from their chosen “leaders,” influencers who dictate everything from how to dress this autumn to what lip shape is considered aspirational.
The tragedy is not just that people want to belong – belonging has always been a human need but that curiosity, experimentation, and critical thinking are dying along the way.
The Tyranny of Trends
Fashion has always thrived on trend cycles; it is, after all, an industry built on novelty and aspiration. But once, there was room for reinterpretation. A designer would send a silhouette down the runway, and individuals, subcultures, and local communities would remix it. Now, thanks to TikTok’s lightning-fast algorithmic churn, trends don’t inspire they demand obedience.
The scholar René Girard’s theory of mimetic desire is particularly relevant here: human beings want things not independently, but because others want them. This creates a cycle of imitation that spirals outward until desire becomes collective frenzy. We can see this in the way a single influencer-approved product from Stanley Cups to Dior lip oils explodes across feeds, replicated endlessly.
But it’s not just about buying the bag or the shoes. It’s about outsourcing thought: asking what’s “in” rather than asking what you are drawn to. This is where fashion becomes not an art of self-expression, but a template to be filled in.
The Rise of Influencer-Prophets
Psychologist Irving Janis, who coined the term groupthink in the 1970s, warned of the dangers of conformity: when people suppress their doubts for the sake of harmony, decision-making suffers. Today, influencers are the new authority figures, and groupthink flourishes under their watch. Women don’t just ask for outfit inspiration; they ask, “What are we buying this season?” as though a collective decree is required before a purchase can be made.
This collapse into conformity is compounded by parasocial relationships. The idolisation of celebrities like Taylor Swift reveals how fandom can cross into collective mania. The announcement of her engagement sparked commentary and emotional investment that bordered on the surreal not simply celebration of a beloved artist’s happiness, but performative mass reaction, with women projecting their own hopes, frustrations, and expectations onto someone they’ve never met.
The Beauty of Sameness
Nowhere is this loss of individuality more visible than in beauty culture. Once, makeup and cosmetic procedures were tools of creativity, transformation, or enhancement. Today, they are scripts. Facial alignment procedures, lip fillers, buccal fat removals, many medically unnecessary are sold to women as “standards.” Psychologist Jean Twenge, in her work on Generation Me, highlights the paradox of individuality in contemporary culture: while younger generations are told to “be themselves,” social media reinforces rigid norms of how that self should look.
A few years ago, having a slightly crooked nose or an uneven lip was simply your face. Today, women are convinced that they must “fix” what was never broken. Beauty has become industrialised sameness, the face as product.
The Laziness of Copy-Paste Culture
Beyond beauty and fashion, there is a broader intellectual lethargy. Social media encourages passive consumption: waiting for trends, waiting for instructions, waiting for someone else to tell you what to think, wear, buy, or desire. Where once curiosity led us to read random books, fall into niche hobbies, or learn obscure skills, now it is enough to scroll.
The cultural critic Neil Postman once warned that we are “amusing ourselves to death” a society not oppressed by censorship, but drowned in distraction. Add to this Byung-Chul Han’s diagnosis of our burnout society, and the picture sharpens: in a world exhausted by productivity demands, trends become an easy shortcut. Why think for yourself when someone else has pre-packaged the answer?
How Do We Get Back?
If individuality is to survive, it will require intentional rebellion. A willingness to be curious again, to explore interests outside of trend cycles. A deliberate choice to resist the algorithm, to read beyond the headlines, to cultivate taste that is informed but not dictated.
Practical steps may sound deceptively small:
• Choose curiosity over consumption. Pick up a book on a subject you know nothing about. Let randomness guide you.
• Resist trend urgency. Ask yourself if you like something before you see it on ten other people.
• Reclaim imperfection. Celebrate the quirks of your body and face instead of submitting to cosmetic homogeneity.
• Diversify your sources. Follow thinkers, writers, and creators outside your immediate algorithmic bubble.
As philosopher Søren Kierkegaard once wrote, “The crowd is untruth.” It is in solitude, reflection, and sometimes even stubborn refusal that authenticity thrives.
We are not doomed to collective sameness. But we must recognise the forces at play: mimetic desire, groupthink, the lure of easy validation. The work of reclaiming individuality is neither glamorous nor algorithm-friendly. It requires curiosity, discomfort, and, above all, the courage to stand apart.
Because in a culture that increasingly demands conformity, the most radical act may be to simply think for yourself.
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