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A couple of weeks back, I stumbled upon a video that captured an adulthood I once believed would be mine. 

Unless you grew up in this era, it may be difficult to understand — but there was a time when Buzzfeed ruled the internet and fairy-lights-in-mason jars were trés chic wedding decor. It was a time when Michael Cera starred in everything as the socially awkward romantic lead. And when frozen yogurt was all the rage … 

This is Millennial Optimism at its finest: a recently-coined term that encompasses early 2010s nostalgia. Most people seem to specifically crave the era during Obama’s first presidency: that 2008-2012 sweet spot when the future seemed bright and the outlook was hopeful. 

This was a time when mint green slouchy tops flew off the shelves at Charlotte Russe and crackle nail polish was the epitome of being an it-girl. It calls back to the natural hair movement and body positivity, even though this was an era still riddled with misogyny and racism. 

That part, however, is conveniently missing from the highly-curated videos celebrating 2010s iconography. Ironically, this omission is perfectly on-trend. 

The “optimism” behind Millennial Optimism speaks to the rapid social progress that the internet helped pave, resulting in a monoculture that celebrated happiness … but failed to recognize its own naivete. 

I am the far end of Gen Z at twenty-seven-years-old. Back then, I don’t remember anyone distinguishing Gen Z from Millennials; we all seemed like one, big, happy family united by the anonymity of the internet. I looked up to Youtubers; I followed their funky makeup routines. I loved the quick-wit humor of Juno and Superbad, loved blasting Vampire Weekend on my iPod touch, and obviously, I really loved the clothes. 

In the last few years, the younger end of Gen Z has been pretty hell-bent on distinguishing themselves from Millennials — even reducing their late Gen Z comrades to “Zillennial” status. But they can’t help themselves from getting drunk on the nostalgia for an adolescence that never came to be theirs.

At its core, Millennial Optimism is not a fashion movement. But it’s not not one, either. I always think of Juno — the unzipped hoodie, the orange striped shirt, the plaid skirt over the baggy jeans. This was a radically different kind of femininity than what was primarily commercialized during the early 2010s. 

I don’t mean to flatten the wide-ranging pool of women’s trends during this period, but I don’t think it would be absurd to call them mostly hyperfeminine. After all, this was a time when Victoria’s Secret Angels ruled the runways and thigh gap hashtags were trending on Instagram. It was hell to be a young girl. 

Enter Hipster and Twee, the two most distinguishable aesthetics emerging out of the Millennial Optimism era. “Hipster” signified a young adult who rejected mainstream culture, usually living somewhere urban like New York or Seattle. They often had man-buns, listened to indie bands, and appreciated artisanal coffee. 

It was seen as effortlessly cool until it wasn’t, eventually labeled performative (due to progressive political views withheld from a state of detached elitism). The term eventually shifted into an insult similar to “poser” — as in, “That guy sucks, he is a total hipster.” 

Hipster does not appear to be a part of the recent Millennial Optimism craze, but I mention it through its relationship to Twee, which is currently making major waves of resurgence. Where there was once a Hipster boyfriend, there was a Twee girlfriend not too far. 

The term, twee, originates from the U.K. and means “sweet.” It became popular in the 1980s as a subculture movement in fashion communities as a response to the dissonance of post-punk culture, pulling inspiration from 1960s mod and school uniforms. (It was once considered an insult meant to say one was too quaint, too odd, too sentimental. Through time, it became reclaimed by indie-pop culture and evolved into the 2010s icon we are familiar with today.) 

Twee offered something a bit more reserved for women; a nerdy whimsicality that could be measured in Peter Pan collars, mary jane loafers, and colored tights. Think Alice Cullen, Coraline Jones, or Amélie, female characters written as quirky and unique. Twee glamorized understated sensibility & represented all things charming or quaint, like a small bird or forest 

fairy. 

Perhaps the face of 2000s-2010s Twee would be Jessica Day of the hit sitcom, New Girl. Her blunt bangs and youthful spirit are hard to miss, as well as her outfits. Jessica loves buttons, wide-framed glasses, tie-neck shirts, polka dots skirts, and peacoats. She always looks like a schoolteacher, which happens to be her profession.

But she is also deeply flawed — stalking her exes, meddling with her roommates’ love lives, and manipulating people to serve her best interests. Her beauty and charm are her leverage; she is able to skirt by on her likeability even in the least ideal situations. 

This, too, is an area that appears to be overlooked from today’s resurgence. The vintage lines and refined feminine details may make the aesthetic appear humble on its surface — but in the craze of 2010s hedonistic glam, dressing twee signified a message that one was not like other girls. It conveyed academia, authenticity, and identity. 

In truth, most “twee” dressers of the time were pick-me girls.  

Last year, we saw a huge surge in whimsical trends that swept the internet and fast fashion scene with dazzling polka dots, handcrafted crowns, and accessorized button details. 

I think that we are all suffering from a little bit of whimsy-fatigue. It’s one thing to genuinely be whimsical, and another to buy into a commercialized manufacturing of 

it. 

There is now real desire to do something a bit more understated. Twee is understated in that way; it can incorporate polka dots, but it often fuses practical workwear, academic silhouettes, and is not at all provocative. Mostly, it is riding on the nostalgia high of a 2000s obsessed generation, which is why it is ultimately succeeding in trend. 

With the current bleak state of world news, we are desiring the positive outlook we once held for the future — and why Millennial Optimism is fittingly taking over our For You pages. It’s still early into the trend cycle to tell what will become of it or how it may shape the next big aesthetic, but it can’t hurt to start digging up your mustache necklaces.