There’s something almost embarrassingly wonderful about aesthetics, isn’t there? It’s like admitting that you judge books by their covers, but in the very best, most human way. Aesthetics are the story before the story, the unspoken poetry of who we are or who we’d like to be if only we were just a bit cooler, more composed, or had a knack for finding the perfect vintage scarf.
At their heart, aesthetics are about longing. They’re about the tiny ache you feel when you see a photo of a mossy, ivy-covered courtyard or a perfectly worn leather armchair bathed in golden light. They pull at some ancient, primal part of us that remembers how to yearn for beauty and order, for things that feel deliberate. And, oh, the delicious drama of it all! The windswept moors of Dark Academia, the candy-coated sweetness of the Soft Girl aesthetic, the unapologetic spectacle of Cyberpunk—all whispering, “This could be you, if only you’d lean in.”
But here’s the real kicker: aesthetics are also entirely impractical, which is why they’re so enchanting. Nobody needs to drape themselves in velvet and sip tea in a library, just as no one needs a kitchen lit entirely by neon lights. But we love them because they remind us that life isn’t just about survival—it’s about flair. It’s about imagining yourself as the protagonist of a story, whether you’re a woodland fairy, a city-dwelling intellectual, or a romantic heroine lost in a world of candlelight and tragic novels.
What I think we really love about aesthetics is how they give us permission to be a little ridiculous, to fall in love with the idea of something and not worry too much about the practicalities. Because deep down, we all want to live in a world that feels a little more magical, a little more cinematic. A world where your outfit matches your mood, your furniture tells a story, and your daydreams get to run wild. And honestly, isn’t that enough?
Aesthetics Up Close
Coquette
Coquette fashion is the outfit equivalent of a perfectly bitten bottom lip, a half-lidded glance over a porcelain teacup, a soft giggle that hides something sharper underneath. It’s delicate and frilly and unabashedly feminine—lace-trimmed camisoles, pleated mini skirts, silk bows, pearl chokers—but it’s also knowing, a little mischievous. It leans into romance without losing its edge, flitting between soft pastels and sultry reds like a girl who plays innocent but always wins. Coquette fashion doesn’t ask for attention; it knows it already has it. It’s the art of looking effortlessly put-together while making sure people wonder if you woke up like this or if you planned it all along. And, of course, you did.
Gothcore Aesthetic
Gothcore is what happens when you take existential dread and make it fashion—dramatic, untouchable, deliciously moody. It’s black lace slipping off a pale wrist, the glint of silver rings wrapped around ink-stained fingers, the heavy drape of a velvet coat catching candlelight just so. It’s the art of walking into a room and making people wonder if you just came from a haunted library or if you’re about to curse someone for stepping on your train. Gothcore isn’t just about wearing black—it’s about reveling in the beauty of darkness, in the poetry of decay, in the delicious feeling of turning the mundane into something cinematic. It’s romantic in the way thunderstorms are romantic—wild, chaotic, and entirely uninterested in your comfort.
Cyberpunk Aesthetic
Cyberpunk is the love child of rebellion and exhaustion, wrapped in neon and dripping with rain. It’s high-tech and low-life, where the air smells like electricity and old cigarette smoke, and the streets hum with the glow of a thousand glitching billboards. It’s a world of slick leather jackets with glowing circuitry, chrome-plated boots kicking up puddles on a city street where the only thing more dangerous than the cops is the corporations that own them. Cyberpunk isn’t about fitting in—it’s about surviving in a world that sold out decades ago, where hackers whisper secrets into the dark and outlaws wear their reflections in the glass of high-rise windows. It’s the kind of aesthetic that makes you feel like you should be running from something, or toward something, or both at the same time, just to keep the code flowing.
Fairycore Aesthetic
Fairycore is what happens when you take a deep breath in the middle of a wildflower field and decide never to exhale. It’s soft lace and wisps of tulle floating in a breeze, bare feet damp with morning dew, fingertips brushing the edges of something not quite real. It smells like lavender and old storybooks, like earth after rain, like the kind of magic that hums just beneath your skin when no one is watching. It’s a world where the light is always golden, the air is always sweet, and you can almost—almost—hear the sound of wings fluttering just past your shoulder. Fairycore isn’t about dressing up; it’s about believing, if only for a moment, that you could slip into the woods and disappear into the dream you’ve been chasing since childhood.