Why Millennials Won’t—and Shouldn’t—Stop Dressing How They Want

I recently came across a clip of Emily Ratajkowski on a talk show, where she mentioned that millennials seem to be going through a bit of a fashion identity crisis. “I think millennials are in a weird position,” she said. “We’re not sure how to dress. Being 35 means something different now. We’re like, ‘Can we still wear a crop top or what’s the deal?’” As a proud millennial and crop-top lover myself, I’ve noticed the same thing: many of us ’90s kids are still confidently rocking whatever we want—low-rise jeans, minidresses. It’s like we collectively skipped the moment when we were supposed to “dress like adults,” and instead kept using fashion as a form of self-expression. Why should age determine what we can and can’t wear? That mindset feels not just limiting, but severely outdated.

I have a few hypotheses as to why millennials aren’t dressing “older.” The strongest? We just keep getting hotter. Unlike our Gen Z counterparts, many of us didn’t “get hot” until our late 20s or even early 30s. We came of age with grainy YouTube makeup tutorials and learned how to apply Dream Matte Mousse™️ through trial and error (mainly just error). We fried our hair with industrial-sized straighteners because no one told us about heat protectant. In high school, we actually looked like high schoolers. Most of us only started using eye cream a few years ago. Compared to the Sephora-going tweens of today, we looked like an entirely different species. I catch myself doing double takes in Soho sometimes, stunned by how undeniably gorgeous and grown-up some of the younger generations look. That just wasn’t our reality.

TikTok has normalized Botox and other procedures for young people at a rapid pace. Today’s youth have more or less skipped the awkward phase entirely—but we absolutely did not. In fact, most of us had several. So why would we suddenly trade in fun, trendy clothes now, just as we’re finally figuring out our hair? At 34, I can comfortably say this is the hottest I’ve ever been. I only started weightlifting two years ago—and now I’m supposed to not wear teeny-tiny shorts to show off my ass? Please be serious!

What if clinging to “young” fashion is less about denial and more about survival? As a generation, we’ve been through a lot. From 9/11 and the recession to the housing crisis, endless wars, and Covid—millennials have faced a new global catastrophe every few years, many of which hit during key formative moments. It’s hard not to wonder if all that trauma put temporary pauses on the growing up we were supposed to do. Covid alone took several prime young adult years off the table. So really, aren’t we owed a few more miniskirt-wearing moments to make up for it?

Some argue that millennials have a fear of growing up. To which I ask: Why wouldn’t we? Beyond the barrage of global crises that have undoubtedly stunted our emotional development, many depictions of adulthood we’re familiar with made it seem hard, monotonous, and—particularly for women—disproportionately awful. Think about the films and TV shows we grew up with—American Beauty, Now and Then, even American Pie. They all split up the children and adults, portraying adulthood as a depressing spiral into suburban conformity. Why would we spring for a version of life that looks more serious and difficult? If clothing reflects who we are and want to be, our sartorial choices make perfect sense. We’re not clinging to a bygone era—we’re reaching for levity, autonomy, and a sense of control. We’re shunning garments that suggest the party is over, because frankly, it isn’t.

Finally, lest we forget: we accidentally dressed business casual for most of our young adult lives. I wore blazers to the club for a solid 10 years. God knows why—but for some reason, we spent way too much time and money investing in officecore (known only to us as “work clothes”). It should come as no surprise that, as a generation, we’re now collectively leaning into a more casual look. We’ve done our time in pencil skirts and sensible flats.

Millennials have already reimagined entire industries. We’ve shaken up establishments and built new infrastructure from scratch. But maybe our greatest feat is still in the making: redefining what it means to age. Why should the fun stop? Why should we limit what we wear? Why should turning 40 mean covering up? I, for one, am excited to watch—and participate. You’ll have to pry my crop top from my cold, dead hands.

Tinx

Christina Najjar, popularly known as Tinx, is a New York Times bestselling author, podcaster, and radio host. Tinx’s wit and candor have established her as a resounding voice for women, with her uniquely engaging and empathetic approach to content resonating with millions. From her satirical “Rich Mom” content and takes on pop culture, to her theories on sex, dating, and relationships, and her honest reviews and recommendations of everything from food and restaurants to beauty, fashion, and lifestyle products, she possesses an effortless ability to capture the cultural zeitgeist.