Earlier this summer, those of us who find ourselves chronically online could not escape the blaring horns of the 1996 classic, “Let Me Clear My Throat.” It accompanied a TikTok craze in which a creator applied a filter designed to significantly age their appearance and as DJ Kool shouted the song’s title, the creator removed the filter to reveal a much younger face; one that couldn’t possibly have known the song in its heyday. One by one, middle-aged women stared blankly into their phone cameras with AI-generated wrinkles and gray hair. The only creators falling for the craze were those unaware of how it played into antiquated standards of youth and beauty. Age obsession is out and failure to recognize this significant social and political trend appeared dated, even if the face did not.
Lately, I have been thinking about the difference between crazes and trends, particularly how conflation of the two terms limits our understanding of how the latter functions within presentation. A craze is a popular, yet static practice or interest held for a short period of time with minimal impact on society. Americans love a good craze because they are somewhat democratic in nature; everyone participates at once (i.e. we can all incorporate browns for fall). Whereas a trend is an emerging idea that projects or conveys an awareness of where society’s headed. No matter the type, be it technological, social, or sartorial, trends pass through people of higher status before reaching the masses, and in that sense they tend to irritate. Trends remind us of the many hierarchies Americans pretend don’t exist, and our ability to adopt them explicitly signals our position in society.
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