Can You Be Whimsical on Purpose?
By: Greta Buysse, Staff Writer Edited by: Parisa Nosrati
At this point, it feels like there’s a buzzword for everything. In recent years, Gen Z has become particularly attached to bite-sized words that turn behaviors and mindsets into identities, from “brainrotting” and “delulu ” to “maxxing.” Once again, the cycle continues with the internet's newest obsession: “whimsy.”
Though the word’s definition has recently become more debatable, most define whimsy as a lifestyle that’s based on playful, lighthearted spontaneity. Many see the word as an encapsulation of behaviors that reflect the sense of childlike wonder that most abandon when faced with adult life—like watching the clouds for shapes, blowing bubbles for fun, or making wishes at 11:11.
For a trend that emerged from the internet, whimsy originally felt like a complete rebellion against the rules of the online world. It didn’t ask people to become an entirely different or more appealing version of themselves. Instead, it asked for a more instinctive, fundamental way of being that centered around finding the habits that existed within oneself before they learned to be perceived and judged by the world.
Despite the fact that the lifestyle centered on a uniquely personal way of being, internet users found a way to define and package it. Just as quickly as the word blew up, posts and articles appeared all over the internet detailing specific ways of “how to be more whimsical.” And slowly but surely, these ways started to include not just how to be whimsical, but how to look whimsical.
Though the whimsical style is not as rigid of an aesthetic as we’ve seen from the many “core” aesthetics the internet has popularized in recent years, it still has discernible elements. Looking up “whimsical fashion” will yield search results containing colorful, often pastel outfits marked by patterns and accessorized with lace, frills, and maximalist jewelry. At surface level, there’s nothing inherently wrong with whimsy having a recognizable visual language. If a certain look helps someone express the playfulness they already feel, then that doesn’t make their whimsy any less genuine.
The problem begins when those visual elements become something that can be marketed. The recent rhinestone trend, started by Kylie Jenner, offers a particularly clear example. On her 29th birthday, the influencer posted a photo of her birthday cake, notably adorned with a plethora of peel-and-stick plastic rhinestones. In the coming days, hundreds of videos flooded the internet of people sticking the same single-use plastic rhinestones onto whatever rhinestonable surface they could find, labeling the trend as “whimsymaxxing.” Though the tide has seemingly shifted, and many have denounced the trend as excessive, wasteful, and even “ugly,” the rhinestone situation still reflects a larger trend of whimsy becoming a marketable thing.
Whimsy, which initially asked people to find wonder in what they already had, has seemingly become another aesthetic with a shopping list attached. You may feel whimsical, but are you even recognizably whimsical if you’re not wearing colorful tights, funky jewelry, or a frilly blouse?
That pressure to buy can also interfere with the very individuality that makes whimsy appealing in the first place. Kylie Phillips, co-styling director of Fashion and Design Society at Syracuse University, argues that “once you start picking pieces simply because they are popular, that is when you aren’t doing it [for] yourself, but rather the algorithm.”
Under the structure of capitalism, even a rejection of curated aesthetics can become an aesthetic of its own. The issue doesn’t seem to be that whimsy has recognizable style elements, it's that those elements can turn a way of being that anyone can pursue into a way of buying that excludes those unable or unwilling to fit into its “look.”
With this level of expectation around the look of whimsy, its aesthetic has become increasingly disconnected from whimsy as a practice. The two are not mutually exclusive, but they are no longer necessarily connected. Someone in jeans and a plain t-shirt can spend an afternoon collecting interesting rocks, talking to birds, or dancing alone in their kitchen. They may have no recognizable visual marker of whimsy, but the practice itself remains rooted in the original idea.
The difference between performing whimsicality and living it might just be as simple as the distinction between an action and an appearance. Madyarova describes being whimsical as “a ditsy, happy go lucky energy,” while looking whimsical is “just about flowy colors and layers and a bunch of accessories.” The two can exist together, but one does not require the other.
Even a conventionally “whimsical” outfit does not necessarily contradict that idea. What matters is where the choice comes from. Phillips describes whimsy as “choosing fashion or accessories that you truly like and speak to you,” while Syracuse University theatre design and technology student Yana Madyarova argues that intentionally buying something to look whimsical can still be genuine if “it’s just an extension of your soul.” It’s possible that a colorful outfit, layers of jewelry, or a pair of funky shoes can be whimsical if they reflect genuine enjoyment rather than an attempt to fulfill an imaginary checklist.
Phillips puts the idea simply: “I hope everyone keeps choosing themselves and what they love.” Maybe that’s what whimsy was supposed to be all along. Not a particular shopping list or aesthetic, but the freedom to choose something because it makes you happy. So, perhaps the most whimsical thing you can do is stop trying to look whimsical.
© 2026 by FETCH COLLECTIVE
Comments