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Since the explosion of cottagecore back in 2020, the TikTok landscape has been filled with various aesthetics, imagery, and visuals from different communities and subcultures. In fact, as of 2025, Aesthetics Wiki has documented over 268 different aesthetics over their 5 year active period. It seems nowadays, every item must be themed, every moodboard must evoke a “-core” and every person must ascribe to a certain aesthetic. However, the prevailing sentiment around aesthetics can loosely describe the rest of TikTok: we’re doing too much, and we’ve gone too far. The combo of social media aestheticization, capitalism, and consumerism—or in other words, coreification—is destroying subculture as we know it.
Let’s Talk Aesthetics
The idea of aesthetics is nothing new: it’s tied quite literally throughout history in architecture, music, writing, fashion, paintings, and other forms of art and expression. With the introduction of social media and “-core” culture, discussions surrounding aesthetics shifted from what is considered beautiful, to being more simply a “collection of images, colors, objects, music, and writings that creates a specific emotion, purpose, and community” (Aesthetics Wiki). Unfortunately, the original meaning of aesthetics never truly separated itself in modern discussions, so what we get is a chimera of the two, a collection of visuals centered around an idea or community, but largely stripped of anything that is undesirable or “ugly”. This is also the basis of what coreification is: a distillation of an idea down to its “core” elements.
Coreification is not inherently malicious, but it is inherently reductive. After all, it’s why these aesthetics are usually followed up only by a series of images or collages to illustrate the theme, and not the history or motivations behind it. In doing so, coreification strips “the look” from “the culture”, which is essentially the foundation for cultural appropriation. Additionally, coreification also “beautifies” an aesthetic, but it really means aligning it with a Eurocentric beauty standard, which usually excludes darker complexions, disabilities, and various body types (think “thinspo” and indie sleaze). All of a sudden, discussions stop being centered around self-expression, identity, and belonging, and become exclusively centered around how to best adhere to the mainstream status quo.
While it might make sense for a fictional Mermaidcore or a Fairycore, real world consequences arise when it applies to countercultures like Hip-Hop or Punk. Now instead of being an expression of rebellion or escapism, these aesthetics are “sanitized” and paraded around TikTok as costumes, and as the new “it” look for the day. Coreification is entrenching itself in more and more real communities: according to our Gen Z research community, The Koi Pond, 71.4% of Gen Z have witnessed their own community reduced to a simple aesthetic.
“It’s disappointing, Goth is such an amazing subculture and seeing it being watered down to really just clothing is extremely disappointing.” - Azriel, 2009
“Frustrating. Disappointed for those who are losing out on what they don't know and disappointed in those who call themselves punk while not aligning with the most important aspects.” - CK, 2005
Segmented, Sanitized, & Searchable
So what happens when capitalism is introduced into the mix? As it turns out, coreification has been a brand’s best friend. Items taken from their context, displayed in isolation… wait isn’t that just a product page? In fact, -cores and aesthetics’ biggest beneficiary has been search engines. With Gen Zs constantly generating new aesthetic terms, as well as tagging each and every one of their items, each and every piece of our look has become searchable and shoppable. Why search for an “olive green high waist suspender skirt” when searching for “cottagecore dress” on Shein gets you the exact look you want and more? Why learn about Gothic culture when you just want to look like Wednesday Addams for the day? Now, Gen Zs are no longer buying fashion piece by piece, but rather outfit by outfit, aesthetic by aesthetic. Moodboards become buying guides, and your entire culture is the microtrend of the week. Brands only need to call it what TikTok is calling it and the rest will sort itself out.
And no community is safe. Whether your niche is 100 or 1,000,000 strong—they are all the same—victims and fodder to churn the ouroboros that is the mainstream social media trend. With 92.4% of our Koi Pond respondents agreeing that the rapid cycle of trends on social media is hurting the authenticity of communities, it’s clear that capitalism has a parasitic relationship with “-cores” and aesthetics, and it's determined to sell you your own idealized image for 30% off and free shipping.
The Death of Subculture
In this sense, a true counterculture like goth, punk, alternative, no longer exists, because coreification and capitalism immediately absorbs and pacifies movements and messages. 77.7% of our Koi Pond respondents say that their subculture has gone mainstream, but in that process has obscured its message and meaning. When asked whether or not the mainstream depicted accurately represents their subculture, our Gen Zs said:
“Nope.. a lot of people don’t get it or don’t follow the morals of it.” - Arrow, 2000
“Not at all. they've turned it into a cheap parody of itself. The whole point is anti capitalism and human rights at its core, and we have "punk" clothing being sold pre-made on Shein, which goes completely against the values.” - Jack, 2005
“No it basically becomes the vampiric, no-ice diet version of the subcultures removed of either the localization aspects that encourage IRL community or devoid of the political stands and beliefs that were previously attached to them.” - Ayiko, 2001
There is no better, more mindblowingly ironic example of this than the existence of a “protest-core”. Reducing genuine social movements, marches, and demonstrations for human rights down to a simple, fun, and innocent “pwotest uwu” aesthetic, TikTok has been peddling anti-surveillence makeup tutorials, platform combat boots, medical kits, and other “tacticool” items to help you “look your best in the revolution”. At best, it’s an illustration of how performative, tone-deaf, and perverse coreification can be, promoting consumerism straight to the face of people fighting for their rights and lives. At its worst, it distracts and delegitimizes entire movements by flooding feeds with misinformation and other dangerous behavior; or promotes non-functional, non-sterile, rigged, or defective gear that was solely meant to cosplay activism. The resulting consequences can be the difference between freedom, arrest, or death.
So how can countercultures exist when coreification thieves your image and appropriates your message? How can self-expression exist when capitalism “perfects it” and sells it back to you?
Creating a Brand x Subculture Symbiosis
It’d be extremely easy to blame social media for all this cultural theft and destruction—and you’d be right—but while social media is the biggest perpetrator, it’s also the biggest connector for these communities. For our Gen Z Koi Ponders, 100% of them interact with their community online, and 38.1% of them discovered their subculture community through social media and other online channels. While 47.6% of our Koi Pond respondents say that social media has diluted or misrepresented their subculture’s values, 38.4% have said it’s made their subcultures more accessible and connected. Social media has proven invaluable, but it’s clear that Gen Z is tired of the constant commodification of their communities on social media. As a response, Gen Z is retreating outside of social media, into more intimate online spaces like Discord servers, group chats, and forums, or of course, offline altogether. In the process, folks are returning back to what drew them to their subcultures in the first place:
“Freedom of judgment, kind of a "cringe-free" environment I can participate in and be myself. Especially when it comes to exploring my fashion and queer identity. I also love the music and how it's not manicured or over polished-- just people being awesome.” - Gia, 2001
“The individualism and creativity, melded with the fire to fight for a better world… everything about this subculture draws me in.” - Alastor, 2003
“It's radical, anti-capitalist, and the music is good.” Mycena, 2007
It’s the shared values, shared activities, and shared rituals, that truly make a community thrive, and something an aesthetic simply cannot imitate. So is it even possible for brands to engage in subcultures in a way that mutually benefits both parties? First, let’s acknowledge that you are Drake in a sea of Kendricks: you’re not like us. Invading every space your target demographic is in doesn’t make you a colleague, it makes you a colonizer. Luckily, social media is the perfect medium for brand interaction—it isn’t going away anytime soon, and neither is coreification. If you are a brand, don’t just talk about it, be about it. Contribute to the subculture through concrete actions. Build community by hosting events and creating safe, expressive spaces. Brands often are one of the first touchpoints Gen Zs have when discovering a new community—work with the community to educate on histories, values, and actions. If you got it, then they know you got it.
Communities are more than just collections of products and consumers: they are people, full of thoughts, expressions, and values that brands simply cannot co-opt for themselves. While coreification may turn social media into reductive, aesthetic gore, the brands that truly care for their communities and foster genuine connections will stand the test of time.
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