You’re scrolling your ‘For You’ page at 2am:

A clean girl on her hot girl walk rattles off her latest restriction techniques, chanting Liv Schmidt’s mantra, “It’s not a sin to want to be thin.” A carousel of runway clips celebrates the return of cinched waists. A stream of sun-drenched #Tradwife reels show soft-voiced women folding gingham napkins to hymns about submission. An influencer preaches over her bone broth about divine feminine energy. In between, your favourite former body-positive popstar recites a sponsored script thanking her surgeon for her free breast augmentation, encouraging you to book too. Scroll again, and you find a girl in her early 20s with a discount code for black-market Ozempic dupes. Again, and you see an aesthetician draw lines on a woman’s face, breaking down the ‘ideal female jaw ratio’, before injecting his nameless model with filler. 

This dystopian, algorithm-stitched montage is not a nightmare, nor a glitch; it’s simply the new normal in beauty culture.

Over the past several months, we’ve witnessed a seismic shift in beauty norms, a stark reversal of the inclusivity and progressiveness of the past decade. Across legislation, runways and algorithms, trends have tilted sharply rightward, beginning with the overturning of Roe v Wade in June 2022, when women in the US lost a crucial aspect of their bodily autonomy. When multiple data points all move in the same retrograde direction, it’s more than a passing trend: it’s a regime shift. 

This beauty ‘vibe shift’ is characterised by the resurgence of ultra-thin ideals, conservative aesthetics and regressive socio-political attitudes shaping not just bodies, but also identities. The change is pervasive and unsettlingly rapid, powered by a mix of new medical technologies, algorithm-driven social media, and a broader cultural and political swing towards conservatism.

Central to this shift are GLP-1 drugs like Ozempic and Wegovy, which have been tried by one in eight Americans, while private prescriptions in the UK are forecast to reach one million this year. These injectables normalise, commercialise and amplify the thin ideal, shrinking the Overton window for body diversity. In this world of medicalised weight loss, fatness becomes inexcusable and increasingly tied to morality.

Social media platforms – particularly TikTok – are reflecting and accelerating this shift. The hashtag #SkinnyTok has surpassed 2.4 billion views, driving a toxic wave of algorithmic thinspiration reminiscent of Tumblr’s early-00s ‘pro-ana’ communities. Young women are reporting that their feeds are suddenly full of these videos, despite not engaging with any similar content previously. There are posts of diet advice, where tiny‑snack plates and “just listen to your body” rhetoric mask sub‑1,000‑calorie diets. SkinnyTok influencers express relief and a sense of freedom, as if they had been censored all these years. “Thank god I can finally say it, I want to be skinny,” one user states.  

One post describes the body positivity movement as “gaslighting”, another prolific SkinnyTok account states matter of factly that in order to be small, you have to never feel full. According to a Public Health Nutrition study from 2024, more than half of diet-related TikTok videos feature body-checking or other restrictive-eating cues disguised as wellness tips. Research indicates that just eight minutes of thinspo content can harm body image.

Gina Tonic, author of Greedy Guts: Notes from an Insatiable Woman, links this resurgence directly to broader political currents: “It definitely feels like a regression that’s in line with the current political climate – as everything gets more conservative, it’s no wonder people feel more comfortable openly sharing fatphobic views.”

It’s not just fatphobia that’s becoming more brazen. A 2024 Cornell University study with disabled TikTok creators found that 60 per cent reported receiving ableist slurs such as the R-word in comments on their videos, with disabled LGBTQ+ creators receiving even more abuse. Similarly, the frequency of the R-word tripled on X after owner Elon Musk used the slur. In the US, gender-identity crimes increased by more than 30 per cent and sexual orientation crimes by almost 14 per cent from 2021 to 2022, with 2023 preliminary data, released in September 2024, showing a further 16 per cent rise year-on-year. The normalisation of openly discriminatory content is symptomatic of this broader shift – the retreat from the inclusive gains of the 2010s toward the policing of a thinner, more gender‑conforming, binary beauty norm.

The backslide isn’t just digital; it’s visible on fashion runways. The share of plus-size models has plummeted from 2.8 per cent in 2020 to a dismal 0.8 per cent in 2025. Conservative outlets now frame the once-celebrated body positivity movement as “emotionally manipulative”, accusing them of gaslighting the public into accepting unhealthy lifestyles. 

This revival of conservative beauty standards is also illustrated by beauty trends across the board. In nails, make-up, hair, ‘tweakments’ and cosmetic surgery, the momentum is toward an understated glamour: minimalist manicures, ‘barely-there’ long-wear cosmetics, surgery trends that are “undetectable”, and a fixation on strengthening and growing hair. Think the viral Wonderskin long-lasting lip stains, the Rhode boom and The Ordinary’s peptide lash serum. It all adds up to a look that reads simple at first glance yet is meticulously polished. 

The political dimension is undeniable. Arabelle Sicardi, author of the upcoming book The House of Beauty, argues that this emphasis on smaller, thinner bodies and conservative aesthetics is essentially “shorthand for the traditional roles women are taught to take in society; the religious and conservative politics of a ‘woman at home’ have just come back to call with a vengeance. It’s all simply adhering to the guidebook of eugenic ethnostates.” Sicardi draws chilling parallels: “If you were to put Nazi propaganda from the late 1930s alongside what’s being pushed now, you would see little to no difference.” If you placed the 1937 Neues Volk cover of the Ideal Aryan Mother beside a viral #Tradwife reel of blonde influencers like Hannah Neeleman in prairie dresses teaching viewers “how to attract a masculine provider” and praising “the feminine urge to take care of your husband”, the vibe is eerily similar: the same flaxen braid, the same perfectly peaceful motherhood, the same promise that feminine virtue lies in thinness, servility and domesticity.

Sicardi further explains the broader function of beauty in society: “Beauty has always been a tool of fear and respectability politics, a language of ‘passing’ in a system of surveillance and judgement. We’re going to see it operate in several ways – as a method of distraction (So many products! So many problems to fix in ourselves!), and as a way to keep us desensitised, hyper-critical and focused on individualism rather than collective response and community building. If you’re so focused on your own flaws or pointing out the work done on other people, you have far less time to strategise.”

Beyond aesthetics, the repercussions for marginalised groups are severe. The rollback of trans rights, exemplified by the UK Supreme Court’s recent ruling excluding trans women from the legal definition of ‘women’, mirrors the broader cultural contraction. Over 850 anti-trans bills were introduced in the US this year, with 80 already passed. This legal climate chills expressions of non-binary and flamboyant beauty, reshaping what beauty brands dare to market. Seemingly in response, retail giants like Walmart and Target quietly scaled back DEI initiatives, and Pride-inspired make-up collections vanished from shelves due to ‘ideological’ controversy.

As Sicardi reminds us, beauty is inherently political: “It is the language of who is seen as safe, valuable, desirable and worthy of respect.” The current beauty ideals, aggressively promoted through both traditional and digital channels, serve as a method of societal control, distracting from collective action through hyper-individualised self-scrutiny.

It’s also about physical control – both reproductive rights restrictions like denying access to abortion, and GLP-1 drugs (for those who aren’t using them to treat diabetes) create environments where women’s bodies are heavily restricted, surveilled and minimised. At the same time, misogynist influencers, politicians and pundits are preaching a gospel that women are inferior and exist solely to serve men and have babies. In April, the New York Times reported the White House is currently considering introducing incentives like giving every American mother $5,000 after delivery and awarding a “National Medal of Motherhood” to mothers with six or more children – a practice chillingly similar to the Nazis who granted German women who fulfilled their racial ideals motherhood awards.

However, the pendulum swings both ways. Underground zines, Discord servers, and Patreon collectives are emerging as sites of resistance, suggesting a backlash may be brewing. There’s cautious optimism in consumer data showing inclusive beauty brands are outperforming conservative peers, suggesting a potential turning point if resistance grows loud enough. Historical patterns indicate that these regressions are cyclical, which can provide some comfort as well. As Gina Tonic says, “between waves of feminism, there’s always a pull back towards traditional and conservative beliefs. Each time we do get some progress across the line, we just have to make it through the regression that happens after.”

Sicardi also highlights the dual nature of beauty: “My favourite function of beauty is a promise it makes even when it’s toxic and terrible: that another world is possible if we try something differently. Even in the most obscenely dark times and moments of brutal injustice, there is usually someone trying to make something more beautiful and comforting and inspiring. Life is unendurable otherwise. Beauty is exquisite and terrible in equal measure.”

This Beauty Backslide isn’t just about aesthetics – it’s symptomatic of wider political, technological, and economic forces. Trumpism may amplify and accelerate this trend, but it isn’t confined to the U.S. Far-right politics and economic austerity across Europe indicate similar movements, demonstrating a shift that transcends national borders. The potent realignment of beauty norms reflects and reinforces this broader cultural conservatism. Naming and confronting this shift openly might just be the first critical step towards reversing it before it becomes entrenched.

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