In the vast realm that we call the internet, exists a subculture that I like to call the “girl internet”. A unique space where women come together to share ideas, and advice, and decide which trends or “aesthetics” are in. Within this space, new aesthetics are emerging at a rapid pace; with the “clean girl” aesthetic rapidly turning into the “mob wife” aesthetic, there is something for everyone. But, the one that has caught my attention that doesn’t seem to be leaving us soon, is the rise of coquette core- an aesthetic characterized by an abundance of bows, frills, lace, and lots and lots of ribbons- embracing everything girly.
A very popular aesthetic amongst “girl internet”, this trend is also sparking a heavy wave of discourse, raising questions about its implications for feminism and societal perceptions of what femininity is.
Over the past year, with the likes of artists like Lana Del Rey rising in popularity, and the hype around being the “it girl”, coquette core has proliferated across social media platforms, with influencers, young adults, and millennials alike embracing its fun and whimsical charm. We’ve seen it all over Instagram feeds, TikTok, and other popular social media platforms, and it’s safe to say that the aesthetic has taken over digital spaces.
But amidst the sea of ribbons and pastel pinks, a debate has been raging on: Is the coquette core trend a celebration and reclamation of femininity or an anti-feminist regression into submission to the gross sexualization of infantilized women?
Some argue that the aesthetic perpetuates harmful stereotypes by equating femininity with childishness and naivety. In other words, it is feminine, so therefore must be childish. On the other side of the argument, others view it as a form of empowerment—a fun way of reclaiming hyper-femininity in a world that is, sadly, still seeking to diminish women’s agency.
To really understand the rise of the coquette core phenomenon and the intentions behind it, we have to explore how trends have come and gone, and been viewed by society, as well as the broader cultural context of fashion.
There is no doubt that throughout history, women have utilized fashion as a tool for self-expression and resistance, using it to challenge societal norms and reclaim autonomy over their bodies and identities. So is this the next wave of resistance using fashion?
For example, we have the mini skirt in the 1960s and in the 1990s, and figures like Courtney Love and Madonna used their grunge-inspired styles as a means of rebelling against patriarchal expectations. They wore styles similar to the likes of the coquette styles, but more satirically to get their points across. Similarly, the coquette core trend can be seen as a modern iteration of this defiance—a playful assertion of femininity in defiance of societal constraints.
However, as I previously touched on, the coquette core aesthetic also raises questions along the lines of gender, sexuality, and power dynamics. Some argue that the trend’s emphasis on youthfulness and innocence infantilizes women and sexualizes them, reinforcing harmful narratives of female submission and objectification. With some even comparing it to, or even calling it the “Lolita” trend, it is easy to see how this argument has emerged and caused the divide as to whether it is a foul way for some to fantasize.
As we navigate these complex and often overlooked things, we have to remember that we can’t put feminism in a box and limit it to a rigid aesthetic, and we especially can’t let society sexualize trends that are meant to be fun outlets for those who adopt the style. Fashion is not inherently feminist or anti-feminist. Rather, it is a reflection of society and individual agency.
While the coquette core trend may evoke some mixed feelings, it is a reminder of the fluidity of feminine expression. Women have the right to embrace whatever aesthetic resonates with them, whether it’s bold and edgy or soft and playful.

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