As stubborn as the daily temperature might be (refusing to budge from its late-summer plateau), the unmistakable fall spirit has already swept through the Duke campus. I, for one, have already dusted off my collection of patterned sweaters and am eager to make use of my trench coat in the near future. For many women and girls, the season finds expression in a mix of Pumpkin Spice Lattes (PSLs for short), Ugg boots, Gilmore Girls watch parties, and yoga pants. If you see a passerby who seems to match this description, huzzah! You just met the “basic fall girl.”
Though it is referred to as an “aesthetic,” the notion of the “basic” is deeply rooted in social gender and class dynamics. It has long been used as a derogatory label, most commonly aimed at white, teenage, wealthy American girls who conform to mainstream trends. The term implies the consumption of popular cultural products due to social conditioning rather than individual choice. Corporations like Starbucks, Aritzia, and Lululemon (to name a few) capitalize on this demographic, exacerbating the stereotype that being basic equates to conformity and superficiality.
The idea of being basic isn’t inherently gendered, but in practice, it applies almost exclusively to women. Stemming from longstanding patterns of misogyny, “basic-ness” perpetuates the trope that women are shallow, performative, and lack the self-knowledge men have to make original choices. Being a “basic bitch” implies that true individualism — characterized by boldness, originality, and aesthetic leadership —is the province of men, who also tend to control the cultural narratives surrounding beauty. Such an attempt at arbitrary characterization according to appearance is not a new phenomenon. Similar patterns of appearance-based stratification operate in earlier stereotypes, such as “flappers,” “Valley Girls,” and “bimbos.” Being a “basic bitch” is just the 21st-century iteration of a long tradition of trivializing women’s tastes. All of these identities have faced ridicule for supposedly shallow tastes, despite often representing genuine aesthetic expressions during their time. Being a flapper in the 20th century, for example, was not a symbol of conformity, but rather a reflection of the “life is short” mentality that resulted from the devastation of WWI and first wave feminism.
Ironically, while women’s popular preferences signal a lack of individuality, men’s comparable interests are rarely labelled as “basic” even though they are equally mass-market. For example, teenage girls’ enthusiasm for boy bands like One Direction has long been ridiculed as shallow, but similar obsessive behavior from men over sports teams is seen as normal, even as displays of social virtues like loyalty and camaraderie. Similarly, it is seen as “savvy” for the male sneakerhead community to spend thousands on limited-edition drops, while women who spend money on skincare are cast as vain. Moreover, if a woman enjoys traditionally masculine interests, she is often branded as a “pick-me” and alienated from feminist communities. This dynamic traps women in a double bind: mocked for being basic if they conform, and dismissed as performative if they strive to be unique. Either way, their choices are policed by a male-dominant system that tokenizes both popular and alternative expressions of beauty.
Of course, this is not to say that “basic” culture is without its issues. In fact, the whole idea of buying into the popular simply because it is popular obviously has close ties to consumerism and the commodification of cultural products—and even unsavory colonial histories.Take pumpkin spice, for example, which is fraught with colonial history: one of its main ingredients, nutmeg, was native to the Banda Islands (present-day Indonesia). As part of the local culture, it was enjoyed for thousands of years until Portuguese explorers arrived in the 16th century, and quickly exploited its resources. Afterwards, nutmeg, along with the other ingredients of pumpkin spice, were subject to the brutal spice trade, where European superpowers fought control over the spice. The pumpkin spice latte, born out of Starbuck’s innovation lab in 2003, pioneered a new trend within culinary culture that associated spices with fall nostalgia. With it, the baggage and brutal colonial history was lost in a wave of subsequent consumerism.
Despite persistent cultural commodification and erasure within the “basic” aesthetic, society doesn’t typically direct the blame for this at broader systems of consumerism or corporate commodification. Instead, it unfairly targets the women who participate in them. Blaming the consumer instead of the market itself is not fair. The tendency to go on a moral pedestal and judge “basic” women based on their aestheticism in turn reinforces the same problematic notions of inequity that we try to police “basic” women for.
Moreover, much of what is considered “basic” reflects desirable aesthetic qualities that other cultures revere. For example, the “basic” aesthetic in fashion often adheres to neutral colours, plain materials, and primary forms, which, in art, can be considered to be an offspring of essentialism that is appreciated for its simplicity. In Japanese aesthetics, shibui and wabi-sabi value plainness, rusticity, and imperfection. Therefore, fashion pieces we mock as “basic” might be understood elsewhere as profound, aspirational, and “Zen.” Furthermore, looking at other “basic” cultural trends like TS albums and Gilmore Girls, Kantian notions of universality suggest that the most widely shared ideas often hold intrinsic moral and aesthetic value. Therefore, it is unjustified to dismiss the popular on the basis of a singular aesthetic system.
Beyond consumerism, class issues further complicate our relationship with the “basic” aesthetic, as class plays a crucial role in the construction of what is deemed “basic.” Indeed, the ability to participate in fast, mainstream consumption — whether it is buying a PSL, carrying a Longchamp bag, or shopping at Alo — often signals a certain level of wealth and privilege. In fact, what we define as mainstream is also determined by the elites who hold influence over cultural trends, such that elements of classism permeate the “basic” aesthetic.
Ironically, however, criticisms of basic culture also seemed to come from a place of elitism. Just as Longchamp bags are not accessible to everyone, the “hip” options are also dependent on social status or financial capital. “Cool,” sustainable brands like Free People are often unaffordable for many, so is paying for streaming access on the Criterion Channel. On the other hand, enjoying Taylor Swift in one’s own home or purchasing from fast fashion brands can simply be more accessible. Choosing between the popular sentiment and alternative options is sometimes only an option for the rich, whereas being one or the other is often predetermined for the less privileged. Thus, judging people for being “basic” is just as classist as assuming that uniqueness is fundamentally superior. In fact, many people choose to be “basic” as a strategic means to achieve upward mobility, so that, even though they do not fit in in terms of class, they can find belonging in popular styles and behaviors. Judgement, in this case, is unwarranted. We forget that individualism is disproportionately reserved for the privileged, whereas being “basic” might be necessary for many to survive in a hyper-hiercharchical world. As a matter of fact, those who make “alternative” choices are also oftentimes thinking as a group, as they are being alternative together (in the exact same way as the ones mocked as being “basic”). Thus, the line between social conformity and individualism is blurry, making it arbitrary and dangerous to judge aesthetic preferences for being one or the other.
Ultimately, the obsession with authenticity can itself become a performative trap. We live in a culture that fetishizes individuality while punishing women for choosing to be popular or otherwise. Perhaps the collective isn’t so bad. Much like how religion, music tastes, and cultural identity can bring people together — so can personal aestheticism. Perhaps the aesthetic value of the “basic” lies in its ability to resonate with the masses. It is not a lack of depth, but its own kind of expression that exists to bring people together behind monoculture/common language. Thus, the debate surrounding the “basic” exposes a contradiction at the heart of 21st-century identity: that self-expression is always co-created with others. Instead of forcing a binary between collective sentiments and individual taste, we must recognize how we are all navigating the same system of taste, class, and belonging. To dismiss the “basic” is to overlook the intersections of identity, history, and survival embedded in everyday choices — and in doing so, we miss the deeper truth that every form of expression is shaped by, and reflective of, the world we share.
by Jasmine Yao
