2025 was the year that Aminatou Diallo, a 23-year-old New York-based creator, embraced her “whimsy”. By that, she means doing everything she wanted to do as a child. “I got a pair of roller skates, signed up for a ballet class, got myself a princess bed with a canopy and decorated my room how I would have done if I were a kid,” she says. “I’ve just been trying not to take myself too seriously and act on impulse.” 

It’s a desire that, this year especially, has circulated widely across the more imaginative corners of social media. A scroll through the relevant TikTok hashtags reveals thousands of users posing the same question: “Girls, what are different ways we can up our whimsy?” One user, @token.blonde, started a 15-part “whimsy vocab” series, giving her followers regular suggestions of words, such as “mosey”, “swashbuckler”, and “ballyhoo”, that can make their vernacular feel more whimsical. Under the countless “whimsy tips” videos, comment sections are filled with suggestions ranging from greeting the moon and complimenting animals to pressing flowers in library books as a gift for the next person who opens the book. Others describe developing daily rituals intended to break the monotony of their routines, such as wearing perfume to bed. What links these testimonies is a shared desire for small interruptions in the standardised rhythms of adult life. Whimsy becomes a technique for reopening channels to surprise and emotional immediacy, qualities that are often dulled by structure, screens and repetition.

Part of the contemporary fascination with whimsy stems from the difficulty of defining it. The dictionary presents it as “fanciful, or excessively playful” and as a form of “capricious humour”. In cultural use, however, the concept has acquired a gendered charge. For much of the past two decades, whimsy has been aestheticised and directed largely toward women, often through imagery that foregrounds delicacy, eccentricity and a form of intuitive femininity. Its symbolic figures include characters who inhabit dreamlike or imaginative spaces, such as Alice in Wonderland, as well as real-life individuals whose public personas carry an air of creative strangeness. Early-career Erykah Badu, for instance, cultivated an intentionally unconventional spiritual presence. Actors like Mia Goth and Helena Bonham Carter have also contributed to this lineage through performances that sit slightly askew from realism. Even the recent reimagining of “weird Barbie” spoke to a collective appetite for oddness rendered charming.

In 2025, whimsy has increasingly blended with the soft, internet-driven forms of spirituality that are popular right now. Astrology charts, tarot pulls, and intuitive journalling sit comfortably beside pastel accessories, handmade trinkets and other gentle, nostalgic aesthetics. The result is a simple mix of playfulness and quiet metaphysics, where being a little odd or imaginative is treated as a genuine way of knowing yourself. In this context, whimsy turns into a way of grounding oneself amid the noise of ordinary life.

The recent focus on finding “whimsy” wherever possible is also an evolution of an overall shift to embrace and nurture our “inner child”. The language of inner child healing has become increasingly prominent, appearing in therapeutic contexts, self-help discussions and different grassroots online communities. Whimsy functions as its lighter, more playful expression. This shift coincides with the rise of “kidulting”, a term used to describe the growing interest among adults in toys, collectables and other products associated with childhood pleasure. Take the enthusiasm for Labubus as one example of the popularity of fashion that draws inspiration from toy-like proportions, padded textures and bright, graphic motifs. 

Designers have leaned into silhouettes that evoke childhood clothing, including rounded shapes and exaggerated volumes. These trends do not necessarily imply a desire to return to childhood – instead, they suggest an attempt to recover elements of selfhood that were previously suppressed or devalued, such as imagination, expressiveness or heightened sensitivity. In this sense, whimsy provides a pathway toward re-engagement with earlier emotional states and a form of personal continuity that feels increasingly rare. It’s what culture and trends analyst Sarah Jane Dhall calls a “desire to be unserious in a serious world”. “Given there’s no authority on ‘whimsy’, anything can be whimsical if one deems it so,” says Jane Dhall. “It’s a lens, more than a specific product or qualifier.”

It’s ultimately a specific type of offline joy that people are yearning for right now. While existing online involves conformity – to an algorithm, content type or personal brand – re-centring towards whimsy is a way to get offline. “Getting out of the house, talking to people and experiencing things are what add to my whimsy,” Diallo says. It also runs alongside a desire to return to more analogue technology that, undeniably, had more life in the designs, like MP3 players or flip phones. 

Whimsy isn’t about buying a whole new wardrobe or changing your entire look; it is priceless. The world has been heavy, and young people are leaning into softness, gentleness and creativity as a way to breathe again

It’s not hard to see why people want their lives to look, feel and be more whimsical right now. When you find yourself staring at the same exact screen as the person next to you, in a minimalist office building, surrounded by clean white walls and very little ornamentation, anything with strange, obscure or delightful detailing is a welcome escape from modern monotony. (The 2026 Pantone colour of the year is cloud white, after all.) “Whimsy builds distance from the pressures of the present, like vintage or nostalgia; living whimsically flies in the face of challenges by presenting an alternate, more playful reality,” says Jane Dhall. “It’s armour, if you will.” 

One of the most compelling things about whimsy is that it can (and should) be accessible to everyone. Under the whimsical hashtags, thousands of people trade daily whimsical habits. “Whimsy isn’t about buying a whole new wardrobe or changing your entire look; it is priceless,” says Natalie McPherson, a 31-year-old content creator in Miami. “The world has been heavy, and young people are leaning into softness, gentleness and creativity as a way to breathe again.” In this way, McPherson says she sees whimsification as a direct response to burnout. 

As with anything that becomes a “trend” online, however, it was only a matter of time before it became a marketable aesthetic. Enter: whimsy capitalism. There are whimsical outfit guides, whimsical Amazon gift suggestions, whimsical Pretty Little Thing accessories and even whimsical Shein posters. “There’s the aesthetic to it, which is colourful and bright, and then there’s the mindset,” says Juliana Jordan, a 23-year-old craft creator in Los Angeles. “The aesthetic can be tied to consumerism, but I think to most people it’s about the mindset of suspending the discomfort of being quirky in favour of adding magic and charm to your life, and thus the world around you.” 

When Jordan walks down the street and notices a beetle on its back, she flips it over. When she arrives at a restaurant, she has “emergency sprinkles” in her purse to add to her ice cream or coffee. At work, she’ll draw a doodle of a cat and leave it on her coworker’s desk to say hello. “It’s a wonderful resistance of the dystopia that’s been promised to us as young people,” says Jordan. In a time where most people are feeling overworked, overwhelmed and experiencing burnout, keeping your whimsy alive means not allowing capitalist society to suck out your soul; not becoming completely hardened by the world and its ways. As Jordan puts it: “To be whimsical is to be brave”.