We’re Just Slapping ‘Core’ on Any Ol’ Style Trend Now, I Guess

If it’s a day that ends in “Y”, you’re probably encountering a new kind of “core” aesthetic. Simply attaching “core” to the end of a noun has become an easy way to encapsulate a whole fashion trend, vibe, TikTok persona, or brand identity (or even rising sign, without having to break out a natal chart). It’s basically an extension of the mood boards done we made with glue sticks and old magazines at slumber parties when we were 12.

As a woman whose aesthetic vision pretty much only involves wearing red lipstick, I’m fascinated by the rise of the “core”—normcore, cottagecore, fetishcore, now regencycore??—complete with visuals, media, fashion, and even music inspirations. So, before “core” goes completely the way of the political scandal ending “gate,” let’s take a walk down corememory lane.

Ah, normcore, the way we decided to describe finally dressing in normal-ass clothes that were comfortable and only sometimes go together—and, arguably, the core that started it all. It’s what a person wears when they just have to run to the corner store for some milk/beer/butter/eggs/last-minute-grocery-item. It’s heavy on practicality and versatility, light on effort and innovation. These three look like they ran a comb through their hair once—the mean girls at your high schools who maybe didn’t even shower. What a flex.

Who hasn’t wanted to party with Barbie? Barbiecore is all about the girly, pink, and bleach blonde aesthetic—think Elle Woods (Reese Witherspoon) in Legally Blonde, or Kacey Musgraves’ camp look at the Met Gala in 2019. The plastic life is alarmingly perfect. And while Greta Gerwig’s highly anticipated Barbie film is no doubt a piece of the inspiration, Valentino has practically been vomiting out bright pink on their runways for the last couple of seasons.

Because we live in Shonda Rhimes’s world, Regencycore is apparently happening now. Bridgerton has given us two seasons of heaving bosoms, and the trend is showing no signs of stopping. Billie Eilish gave us Regencycore at the Met Gala, as did Bella Hadid’s hair. The trend also made its way into dozens of designers’ collections, including Markarian (pictured left) and Badgley Mischka (pictured right.) Just get into your bustier and send for the ton!

Gorpcore dates back to 2017, when The Cut coined the new fit. It’s a natural outgrowth of normcore, but has an alleged political bent. I’m not sure I buy it, but people have started rocking more Patagonia and other utilitarian companies that promote longevity of wear in recent years. Gorpcore gifted all those bankers and consultants the illusion of having style when they rock the company-embroidered vests.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t add flannelcore to the lists of “cores” that have taken over our sartorial lives in the last decade. This is yet another “core” that didn’t need to be named, but someone (probably Urban Outfitters) had to figure out a way to sell all those flannels that came into backstock. It was the perfect way to re-introduce a then young populace—millennials—to the one of the best part of the 90s grunge era.

Now, flannels are ubiquitous and a way for Ben Affleck to transition from day to night, I guess.

Cottagecore took off at the outset of the covid pandemic, even though its origins go back much further. In America, we did fake “lockdowns,” wherein you could still regularly leave your house for outdoor space or flee to a country home if you were rich; still, apparently, we all craved a return to the land. The cottagecore aesthetic is marked by florals and softness, wanting to or actually raising your own hens, gardening, baking bread, prairie dresses and a general romanticization of country living. It’s basically a Laura Ingalls Wilder character without the hardship.

Angelcore, I regret to inform you, is the soft and ethereal aesthetic that takes its inspo and name from the Bible. It’s all about softness, pinks, pastels and whites, ribbons, lace, feathers, florals and flowly clothing. It’s all about unearthly vibes, but not in an alien way. Think Lana del Ray and her backup singers. (I actually looked for a photo of people wearing literal angel wings, but sadly, the best ones I could find in our image library were old Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show shots—something definitely not angelcore.)

This is pretty self-explanatory, this aesthetic brings ballet to the normies with ballet flats, wrap sweaters and skirts, leotards. Rodarte and Miu Miu have dropped collections reflecting obvious ballet influences, while balletcore made a splash on TikTok earlier this year. Basically, Miu Miu put satin ballet flats on the runway, then Kim Kardashian wore a Balenciaga leotard during Parish Fashion Week, and everyone said, “Yes we are ballerinas now. Let us Balanchine.” Personally, I prefer the legwarmers of the 80s.

I hate to give Julia Fox more space on this website without her actually doing anything to earn it, but the woman’s outfits simply epitomize fetishcore. It’s all about leather, whips, chokers, metal hooks, intense structure, stereotypical dominatrix shit. It, like many of the cores, is not that deep.

Princesscore is a convergence of delicate details and tulle—fashion meets myths. It’s a softer regencycore. A fancier balletcore. It can mean oversized sleeves and flower crowns; it can mean Tinkerbell skirts and billowing fabrics. Mostly, it means tulle. This is the whimsical cousin of cottagecore: It veers costume-y, yes—but in a sense, we’re all just cosplaying our way through life anyway, right?

Then again, why not combine all your favorite trends into a hodgepodge of nonsensical style, and just call it a day? In May, Architectural Digest asked if “Cluttercore” might be the “chaotic good we need right now?” Cluttercore is the anti-core, in that it’s literally just throwing it all together. It’s 2022. Why pick any when you can have all?