I don’t know about you, but I’d be happy to never hear the term “-maxxing” ever again. From its origins in incel groups on 4chan obsessed with “looksmaxxing” to its proliferation across just about any human activity possible (see: sleepmaxxing, gymmaxxing, auramaxxing etc), the suffix has turned the quirks of our everyday existence into a practice that apparently needs to be optimised at every opportunity.
The latest to dominate our feeds is “whimsymaxxing”, a particularly absurd approach to cultivating something that, by definition, should probably happen without much thought. The trend is essentially about taking the ordinary and making it more playful, whether that means covering your phone in rhinestones, attaching cutesy charms to your handbag, or generally finding increasingly elaborate ways to inject a little joy into your life. This all sounds harmless enough, until you consider the fact that we’ve somehow managed to turn spontaneity into a new trend to adopt, and increasingly, to purchase.
Of course, the desire behind it isn’t particularly difficult to understand. After years of clean-girl minimalism, quiet luxury and increasingly interchangeable micro-aesthetics, there’s something appealing about fashion that feels a little more playful, personal and excessive. Whimsy offers an escape from the pressure to look polished and put-together, giving us permission to dress for the sake of having fun rather than getting everything “right”. The problem, as ever, is what happens when that instinct gets picked up by the internet.
“It’s taken off because we’re saturated with micro-trends and copycat culture – everyone’s chasing the same aesthetics, so standing out has become its own currency,” says Amber Chow, a social and culture strategist specialising in fashion and digital trend forecasting. She’s also the Social Editor at virtual try-on fashion app Doji, where she has helped shape the platform’s social identity, content strategy and visual language from its early development. “The irony is that ‘whimsymaxxing’ itself became a trend the moment enough people adopted it, which strips out the very uniqueness it was chasing. What it really tells us is that authenticity has become fashionable – we’re so deep into imitation culture that being “your true self” now reads as the coolest, most aspirational look you can wear.”
The strange thing about authenticity becoming aspirational is that it can quickly become another aesthetic to replicate. There’s even a term for the work of appearing genuine online: “authenticity labour”. Research into visual culture on Instagram has found that users actively negotiate how authenticity should look, suggesting that even being “real” involves some degree of performance.
Chow’s perspective comes from working across fashion media, social strategy and digital culture, including editorial and creative roles at Hypebae, The Face, LYST, i-D, Cosmopolitan UK and Dazed. That breadth has given her a view of trends from both sides of the process, from how they emerge and spread to how they are packaged for an audience. “Nothing is safe from the internet – not even the impulses built to resist it,” she explains. “The internet works like a loop: it takes an idea, breaks it down, repackages it, and spits it back out as the next trend. We exist almost entirely inside that loop now, so anything we create – even something meant to reject trend culture – gets pulled back in and turned into content, a label or a thing that’s measured and sold.”
Nothing is safe from the internet – not even the impulses built to resist it.
Amber Chow
With “whimsymaxxing”, that process has become especially transparent. The impulse to make your surroundings feel more playful has been condensed into a recognisable set of objects: stick-on gems, bag charms, bows, trinkets and anything that can be made to look a little more twee. “I find it nice that people are embracing playfulness, and style-wise I personally welcome the departure from the ‘clean girl’ era,” says Amelia Glodel, the jewellery designer behind Jewelz by Mealz. “I think it speaks to the current state of the world that people are looking for ways to make their lives feel more magical. However, as with many trends, it feels a little bleak watching the word lose all meaning and be reduced to a checklist, a preset, or an Amazon order just to achieve the same look or social-media post as everyone else.”
While there’s nothing inherently wrong with buying a charm because you like it, or wearing mismatched socks to inject some joy into an otherwise understated outfit, the disconnect comes when these objects become replacements for nurturing personal taste. If the point of whimsy is to follow an impulse, why does that impulse suddenly need a shopping list?
“I do find it funny when trends roll around and ‘how-to’ guides pop up to achieve an exact aesthetic or look for something that can’t actually be manufactured so easily,” Glodel says. “Buying a specific thing, dressing in a very particular way or doing a certain activity just because TikTok tells you to – simply in order to replicate everybody else – feels like the complete opposite of whimsy to me.”
Here lies the distinction between imitation and experimentation; trends can give people permission to try something they might otherwise have been too self-conscious to wear, and of course there’s nothing wrong with finding inspiration online (most of us grew up on Tumblr and Pinterest, after all). The issue is whether the trend is helping you discover something you genuinely like, or simply giving you another set of instructions to follow.
“It’s funny because whenever I describe my own personal style, I’d never consider the word whimsy,” says Izzy Manuel, a sustainable fashion content creator with a recognisably cheery approach to dressing. Across her social channels, Manuel shares her colourful second-hand finds, regularly styling them with pieces she’s had hidden in the back of her wardrobe or collected from family members that represent her South Asian heritage. “I think being whimsical is all about feeling connected to our inner child and having a more playful, carefree approach to fashion,” she adds. “Personal style is always a reflection of your own personality, and I think having fun with getting dressed up and experimenting with what you already own is what I would describe as being whimsical.”
Personal style is always a reflection of your own personality, and I think having fun with getting dressed up and experimenting with what you already own is what I would describe as being whimsical.
Izzy Manuel
For Manuel, that means starting with what already exists rather than immediately reaching for whatever the algorithm has decided is whimsical this week. “I feel like ‘whimsymaxxing’ feels a bit like the bag charm trend all over again but just manifesting slightly differently,” she explains. “The most important thing is does it feel like you? I’ve seen so much content where people are ‘whimsymaxxing’ things they own with stick-on plastic gems, and I love experimenting with personal style but trying to do so in a slower, more sustainable way. Whether that’s buying second-hand, upcycling vintage trinkets into charms yourself, or even just using what you already own. The most important thing is always asking yourself, am I doing this for the trend, or is it actually me?”
That question becomes harder to ignore when whimsy starts taking the form of disposable decoration. A sprinkling of multi-coloured gemstones might make for an instantly algorithm-pleasing image on a feed, but the idea of covering something in single-use plastic purely because it photographs as whimsical is difficult to square with the escapism the trend supposedly offers.
“I’ve always been a big fan of customising and personalising things, so its nice to see people having fun with this, and I always think its positive when people are creating and working with their hands,” Glodel says, whose necklaces repurpose broken jewellery and defunct tech (she has a particular love for old iPod Shuffles) into kitchy accessories with plenty of character. “It’s increasingly worrying when ‘whimsy’ is reduced to single-use plastic rhinestones plastered over an object just for a photo or because a celebrity did it,” she shares.
For Glodel, genuine whimsy has more to do with curiosity than consumption. “To me, a lot of whimsy is rooted in connecting with the natural world and spending time offline. It feels counterintuitive and dystopian to litter the planet with plastic rhinestones just because Kylie Jenner did, or to use AI photo filters to achieve a certain look – both of which become deeply harmful to our already-suffering planet when adopted by the masses.”
It feels counterintuitive and dystopian to litter the planet with plastic rhinestones just because Kylie Jenner did, or to use AI photo filters to achieve a certain look – both of which become deeply harmful to our already-suffering planet when adopted by the masses.
Amelia Glodel
And this is where whimsymaxxing starts to brush up against a much bigger internet phenomenon: the difference between belonging to a subculture and borrowing its aesthetic. Before every interest could be turned into a Pinterest board or TikTok search term, subcultures were often defined by the depth of participation. Your music, clothes, friends and nights out might all exist within the same world. Now, you can pick up the visual language of almost any identity for a weekend and move on to something else when the algorithm does.
“Because we all scroll the same algorithm-fed feeds, we’re absorbing the same references and slowly merging into the same handful of ‘personalities’ – which makes genuine personal style harder to find,” Chow says. “But subcultures with strong identities existed long before the internet – whether its y2k, goths, emos, ravers, punks – people lived fully inside them: they listened to the same music, wore the same clothes, had the same friend groups. The difference now is that anyone can cosplay any of those identities depending on what’s trending that week, rather than actually belonging to one.”
Whimsy is obviously not a subculture in the same sense, but the distinction is useful. There’s a difference between having a naturally playful relationship with the world and assembling the correct collection of objects that communicate playfulness to others. One is difficult to prescribe because it is personal; the other can only be turned into an Instagram carousel.
Nostalgia is another reason this matters – an object or accessory can mean something because of where it came from or who gave it to you, and its associations with those childhood-defining memories. That meaning can’t necessarily be replicated by buying the same object because it appeared in someone else’s “whimsymaxxing” video. “Nostalgia is so deeply personal, what you find nostalgic might be different to what I find nostalgic,” Manuel says. “I therefore think choosing objects that you have no deep personal connection to totally loses that true sentimental value.”
This is perhaps the fatal flaw in trying to maximise something as subjective as whimsy. The more people are given the same visual language for expressing individuality, the less individual that language becomes. And, as Chow puts it, there is a point at which the trend simply defeats itself: “The moment it peaks; once everyone’s doing it, it’s no longer individual, it instead becomes the norm. That’s the trend’s death point.”
This leads us to the (albeit, slightly ridiculous) conclusion that the best way to participate in “whimsymaxxing” is to stop trying so hard to participate in it. You don’t need the right bow, the right charm or the right number of rhinestones. You might just need to notice what makes you laugh or what you’ve kept for years for no sensible reason.
For Glodel, that personal connection is central to the things she makes herself. “When I make jewellery, I try to weave all of these elements together. I try to bring whimsy into my work through playful shapes, bright colours, and occasionally unconventional or unpredictable materials. The secondhand elements I use carry their own hidden stories that neither I nor the customer fully know, but I love that this leaves the history and meaning open to personal interpretation.”
Her handmade approach and one-of-one designs add a uniqueness that can’t be replicated by cheap knock-offs. “Each piece I make is one of a kind, so I believe this adds to its whimsy because it becomes truly personal and meaningful to the person who buys it. Ultimately, I want each necklace I sell to feel like a secret protective spell for the wearer – a reminder of the magic possible within the world and themselves.”
For someone whose work involves identifying emerging aesthetics and tracking how they move into the mainstream, Chow’s own relationship with the trend is telling, too. “Honestly, I used to love the word ‘whimsy’, but its overuse has kind of ruined it for me,” she admits. Chow’s personal expression of whimsy came when she dyed her hair bubblegum pink. She says it wasn’t the pastel tone that made her feel carefree, but rather the impulsivity of the decision; she took herself to the salon just a few days before a trip to Tokyo. “That impulsiveness feels true to me,” she smiles. “I wouldn’t call the hair itself unique, though – plenty of people have pink hair now, so I’m not exempt from that trend either.”
Fashion can give us endless ways to decorate ourselves, and there’s no doubt this oncoming month of runway shows and relentless social coverage will continue to turn cultural impulses into collections to covet and outfit carousels to scroll through. But the real thing that makes an object or outfit genuinely whimsical isn’t how it looks; it’s why you chose it.
It’s why “whimsymaxxing” feels like such a contradiction in the first place; you can maximise almost anything if you’re willing to study it, measure it, and buy the ‘right’ things. Whimsy itself is harder to quantify – its is embedded with sentimentality, which is precisely what makes it impossible to turn into a formula.
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