A few years ago, TikTok users began to group themselves into so-called “aesthetics” and “-cores,” such as Dark Academia, Cottagecore, Balletcore, Royalcore, Old Money, Witchcore, Grunge, Gothic, Coquette, and many more. What are they all about, and why am I concerned about their detrimental effects on the lives of young people?

First, let’s look up the definition of the suffix “-core.” According to Slang.net, “On social media, words that end with -core typically refer to a stylized aesthetic. For example, Cottagecore is an aesthetic centered around romanticized rural living, and Goblincore is an aesthetic centered around overlooked natural things.”

Such categorization didn’t start with Gen Z; it was actually used on Tumblr about 10 years ago. So, don’t blame us. But you might be thinking, “This trend is absolutely innocuous!” In a way, it is. But let’s dive deeper and see what makes these kinds of TikTok aesthetics dangerous.

My story will be more eloquent than any explanation. The “Dark Academia” internet aesthetic became widespread on TikTok in the autumn of 2020, when I was 13. I remember how scrolling through social media and seeing people who were passionate about literature, the 19th century, classical music, and studying made me feel like I had finally found my calling. As a rural girl, I had never felt fully seen in my desire to read and write. Dark academia seemed to be everything I had in mind: pictures of museums and old universities, lists of must-read classical books, pieces of vintage clothing, breathtaking art, biographies of historical figures, and obsessions with ancient times and past centuries. I plunged headfirst into the Dark Academia world. I studied harder, read more books, listened to classical masterpieces, played piano, kept a diary, and surrounded myself with the color brown.

Doesn’t sound too bad, does it? However, there was a flip side to this, which concerned my mental health and spiritual harmony.

At the time, my mum would tell you it was impossible to find a single piece of clothing for me. Indeed, I had only been looking for dark brown vintage clothes that matched my aesthetic. No sneakers, no hoodies, no jeans, no tracksuits, and no bright T-shirts. On top of all that, it was really hard to get something suitable to my wishes because 1) I was 13, 2) such clothes were not popular, 3) I lived in the rural country. So, despite my efforts, I felt like I wasn’t part of the Dark Academic community because appearance was very important to me and the community. I felt as if I was defective because I dressed casually.

Next, my social circle narrowed even more. Somehow, I thought I was an elevated person, destined to be lonely and misunderstood. Moreover, I stopped doing sports. Sports? What are you talking about? I’m a dark academic! I only study, read, and create art. Go away with your activities. No, I don’t care about my health as long as I’m “aesthetic.”

Then, I used to refuse invitations to the movies, amusement parks, malls, and sports games. I told myself I’d rather go to the theater, the library, the museum, or just stay at home. I limited myself in these things, even though I wanted to have fun like other children did.

Boys are a separate topic. After having watched dozens of 19th- and 20th-century films and having read about perfect gentlemen and heartbreaking love stories, I realized that there was no guy around me who would fulfill my expectations. What else was I supposed to do other than daydream about my ideal soulmate?

Finally, the worst drawback of all was my obsession with the past. It is difficult for me to describe it. My burning desire to escape from this century into the 19th or 20th was unbearable. I cried while watching and reading about all the balls, dresses, architecture, and the beauty of the past. The constant dreaming of a non-existent reality almost made me lose my mind. It was that terrible. An adult would think, “Who in their right mind would want to live in those centuries?” But you can’t even imagine what was going on inside my head.

Thus, I kept being disillusioned with the reality I had.

When the summer came, I switched to an aesthetic called “Cottagecore” — this one was healing. In 2022, it was “Coquettecore” for me (full of Dior, pastel, and girly girls) — but I won’t go into further detail. That year, I decided to delete TikTok because it lowered my productivity. Since then, I’ve begun to heal my mind and soul.

I’ve been reading modern literature, listening to all genres of music, going to the swimming pool, dressing in white and bright colors, smiling more, and talking to people in a friendly way. I don’t limit myself anymore. I don’t want an aesthetic to define my identity.

I’m learning to be myself again.