The In Vogue: 90’s documentary has been on my mind lately, and it got me reflecting on how there’s something inherently contradictory about fashion right now, and how anti-fashion has evolved from then to today. We all know the story, but hear me out.

Everyone wants to be anti-fashion, but by doing so, they’re just perpetuating a new kind of fashion that everyone else is following. Let’s take a quick trip back to the '90s, shall we?

Anti-fashion wasn’t just a passing trend—it was a statement against the fashion norms of the time. Think grunge: oversized flannels, ripped jeans, and Doc Martens. It wasn’t about trying to look cool—it was about saying, 'We’re done letting anyone tell us what’s beautiful.' People weren’t just copying each other; they were wearing what felt real and freeing. It was punk, gritty—reflecting a youth culture that was pushing back against corporate consumerism and the image-obsessed fashion world. It was a direct rejection of the polished, high-fashion runway looks that ruled the '80s.

Fast forward to today, social media has turned “anti-fashion” into just another algorithm-driven trend. It’s no longer a personal rebellion—it’s a bandwagon. It’s been repackaged, marketed, and glamorised, until what was once a rejection of the mainstream has become a new version of it. It’s all about claiming that you’re somehow too cool for the polished, popular stuff. But here's the catch: when everyone is doing the same thing, how is it rebellious anymore? When you're just trying to blend in with the crowd in the name of 'anti-fashion,' ignoring what you really want to wear, what fits your style and personality, are you truly rejecting anything? Or are you just hopping on the next big trend because it's popular?

Dressing the same as everyone else doesn’t make you unique. There’s no flex in following the herd. If anti-fashion becomes something you're doing just because everyone else is, then it’s lost its essence. What was once an expression of individuality is now just a uniform of low-quality, fast-fashion oversized blazers.

I’m a firm believer that fashion is an ever-evolving way to communicate who you are, to express your identity without uttering a word. It lies in its ability to be unpredictable. It’s about taking risks, stepping outside the box and doing something that feels fresh, unique, and yes, even a little bit controversial. But when everyone dresses the same, that expression becomes watered down. If everyone jumps on the bandwagon, there’s no room for true individuality or artistry. Fashion becomes just another set of rules to follow, and that’s not art—it’s uniformity.

So, here’s the bottom line: anti-fashion today is so fashionable because it’s been co-opted by the masses. However, anti-fashion in its truest form is about embracing what feels right for you, regardless of whether or not it’s on trend. If you like something that’s wildly popular right now, that’s okay too. The key is making it your own. And when you stop trying to fit in, that’s when you start to stand out.

Detoxing, digitally,

Isla

I’ve been picking up on something weird lately. After years of pushing for body positivity—celebrating all shapes, embracing curves, and making space for diversity—it feels like we’re being dragged back into old habits. At the center of it all is the skinny shot in a sleek syringe. It’s everywhere. I can’t even scroll through any social media without seeing someone casually drop Ozempic or bring back the infamous 'heroin chic' into conversation, as if they’re the latest skincare trends. And honestly? It feels like thin is (not so) quietly sneaking its way back into the spotlight.

Growing up in the 2000s, that obsession with thinness was basically unavoidable. It was on every magazine cover, every runway, every pop star’s body. Back then, thin wasn’t just an aesthetic—it was the standard. And if you didn’t fit into that mold? You felt it. Hard.

Kate Moss’ controversial quote, “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels,” perfectly captured the era’s mindset. Even though she’s since regretted saying it, the damage was done. And that pressure? It’s like it never really left. I have never lived a day without wishing I was skinnier, and even now, that feeling is still here. With Ozempic and diet culture creeping back, it feels like that old voice is whispering in the background again. It never really left, did it?

As a fashion stylist surrounded by gorgeous models every day, the comparison is always there. I have to admit, I wouldn’t think twice about eating Ozempic for lunch every single day if I could. But now, at my grown age, and with the knowledge I have about myself and how to take care of my mental health, I remind myself that some standards simply aren’t meant for my body shape. What really bothers me is the way people are casually throwing it around like it’s nothing.

Without any care or hesitation, they leave out the crucial details: you need to be under a doctor’s supervision throughout the treatment, have regular blood work, maintain a proper diet!!, exercise!!!, and, most importantly, have a medical indication!!!!. It’s a whole shebang. Making people believe it’s that easy is unsettling to me. We spent years trying to rewrite the narrative, and now—boom—one little injection, and we’re right back in the thick of it. But it's not just Ozempic.

Everyone online seems to glamorize impossibly tiny meals, calling it “hyper-healthy” or “minimal-eating lifestyle,” but it’s just diet culture wrapped in a shiny new wellness bow. It feels as if we’re trapped in a time loop, heading right back to those early 2000s vibes, with the same old message: thin is still in. We can try to ignore it, but being bombarded with it over and over? It gets to you. That little voice questioning your body starts creeping back in, no matter how much you’ve worked to silence it.

And if all that wasn’t enough, Victoria’s Secret brought back their Fashion Show last week. I grew up loving it—the glam, the music, the bouncy blowouts, the stunning models walking down that runway. It felt like a dream come true every time I watched it, and I still love the show for the sheer spectacle of it, but I can’t help but feel conflicted. Sure, they say it’s different this time, but are we really supposed to believe that? It’s hard to ignore the pressure that floods back in with it. Their brand was built on one very narrow idea of beauty: super tall, super thin, super everything. Bringing it back right now, in the middle of this thinness resurgence, feels like throwing gasoline on the fire.

It feels like we’re going backward. After all the progress we’ve made, the industry is slowly slipping back into its old ways—where being thin is still the end goal. We’ve worked way too hard to change the conversation, to celebrate diversity in beauty, and to break free from those limiting standards. But with things like Ozempic making thinness feel more “achievable” than ever, it’s like we’re back on that slippery slope.

So, where do we go from here? It’s all about being aware—of what we’re consuming, of what we’re buying into. We’ve got to question the quick fixes and remind ourselves that health isn’t just about size. And above all, we’ve got to keep pushing the conversation around body diversity. We can’t let this obsession with thin take over again.

Are we really heading back to the early 2000s, or is this just a passing phase? Either way, we need to keep talking about it—because staying quiet? That’s how we end up right back where we started.

Detoxing, digitally,

Isla

Is it just me, or does being an emotional person often feel like being the main character in a film filled with dramatic highs and painful lows?

As I get ready to step into 28, I’ve come to realize that while my emotional depth is a source of strength, it often feels like I’m hauling a suitcase full of emotional baggage wherever I go. Ironically, this vulnerability sometimes leads others to perceive me as insensitive. What a delightful twist.

Emotions are both chaotic and beautiful, much like an abstract painting. One moment, I’m riding a wave of joy, floating on a cloud of happiness; the next, I’m sinking into a sea of despair, trapped in a storm of my own feelings. I often find myself replaying my day, dissecting every interaction and feeling every nuance. Honestly, I sometimes envy those who can breeze through life with a stoic expression, like the effortlessly chic women I saw strutting down Fifth Avenue during my time in New York City. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying to keep my emotions in check, praying I don’t start crying over the most mundane moments.

As someone who’s as sensitive as they come, the world can feel like a chaotic place. I’m constantly tuning into the energy around me, soaking up every bit like a sponge. But here’s the kicker: my emotional overload can sometimes come off as insensitivity. When you’re knee-deep in your own feelings, it’s hard to notice the subtle cues from the people around you. This has led to a few awkward moments when people think I’m just being self-absorbed when, in reality, I’m battling my own emotional storm.

Here’s what I’ve realised: being emotional doesn’t equate to being weak. If anything, it takes incredible courage to face our feelings head-on. When we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, we create a safe space for others to do the same. It’s like opening the door to a cozy café where we can all spill our darkest and deepest secrets over cups of coffee. Could vulnerability be the new black?

As I dig deeper into my emotions, I’m realizing that each feeling serves a purpose. Journaling has become my therapy; it’s where I can let my thoughts flow freely. It’s my little sanctuary where I can sort through the chaos in my mind and identify patterns that come up. I’ve noticed that what feels like a minor frustration can often lead me to uncover deeper issues that I need to address. Instead of getting swept away by my feelings, I’ve learned to step back and observe them, like a casual bystander at a film festival. Emotions come and go, and I don’t have to drown in them.

I’m learning how to embrace my emotional awareness with intention, prioritising self-care and establishing boundaries that respect my emotional needs. Whether that means saying no to overwhelming situations or making time for myself. FOMO? I don’t know her. At least, not anymore. I’m also learning to revel in my sensitivity. It helps me connect deeply with the world around me—whether it’s the beauty of a sunset or lyrics from a song that speak to my soul. These experiences remind me that being emotional is not a flaw; it’s simply part of being human.

Being an emotional person is a whirlwind. It’s about finding strength in vulnerability. Although I might occasionally struggle with how others perceive my emotional depth, I’m determined to embrace it—proudly. In a world that often values stoicism, I choose to honor my feelings.

Detoxing, digitally,

Isla