“Recession-core” as the aesthetic of an anxious economy
By MOLLY THOMPSON – mmtthompson@ucdavis.edu
“Recession-core trends I love and why.” “Recession-core breakfast.” “In honor of recession-core, let’s run this trend back.” “The truth about recession-core.” “Recession-core makeup tutorial.” “POV: You found recession-core.”
I’ve been unable to escape the voracious influx of “recession-core” content infiltrating my TikTok “For You” page in recent weeks. Every other video proclaims a sense of dread in anticipation of economic decline wrapped up in a thin veil of romanticization and nostalgia. Money-saving tips, eggless recipes, vintage clothing styles and commiserative proclamations of an inability to access luxury products make up the viral trend — it’s taken over the Internet, but its societal implications run far deeper than “#recessioncore” might convey.
To set the record straight, economic experts believe that there is a real possibility that the United States could be headed into a recessive period. I don’t claim to have a comprehensive understanding of the economy, but the consensus seems to be that, while we’re not in a recession right now, current federal financial policy has us heading in that direction.
Understandably, that’s scary news. Given the threat of a potential recession, the natural impulse is to prepare yourself to the best of your ability. That means purchasing goods efficiently, getting accustomed to generally consuming less and pinching pennies in any way you can. Hence, the trend of “recession-core” was born.
The millennial generation, born between 1981 and 1996, came of age during the 2008 recession. For a lot of them, this was a pivotal event that served as a significant landmark in their development — now, they make up a large portion of the current social media zeitgeist surrounding “recession-core.” One of the major pillars of the trend involves drawing parallels between 2008 and 2025. Parallels aren’t all doom and gloom, and come in playful forms, too, like trying to bring back clothing trends from the early 2000s, reminiscing about songs from the era or rediscovering childhood hobbies as a way to make light of an intimidating situation.
This sentimental throwback content serves a dual purpose. On one hand, it indicates that people feel as though we are regressing back into the difficult times of the last major recession in 2008. As humans, we’re naturally inclined to both seek out and follow patterns, so if we notice certain common themes between 2008 and 2025 (maybe specific grocery shortages or stock values), we’re likely to create similarities in other ways as well (like digging out our fringe-lined tank tops and Beyblades out of our parents’ garages).
On the other hand, it is also a self-fulfilling prophecy, at least in terms of our perception. We start to notice these patterns, then start to follow and track them and subsequently we create a situation that looks all too familiar. The more TikTok videos we see telling us that second-hand shopping and upcycling are trending because of the downfall of the economy, the more nervous we’re going to be about the state of the world. When we see the flood of eggless recipes in response to the egg shortage and in preparation for more resource scarcity — especially when those recipes draw parallels with historical economic crises, like the eggless, butterless, milkless “depression cake” from the 1930s that’s having a resurgence in popularity online — we start to panic and begin to prepare for the worst. The vicious cycle starts anew.
This is not to say that all the worry is baseless. Romanticizing a simplistic lifestyle (as “recession-core” touts) is a clear coping mechanism for stress caused by the threat of impending economic doom. It’s not a “boy who cried wolf” indicator; it’s more of a bellwether.
But such is the way of humanity — we try to make the best of a bad deal. If we don’t, we could crumble. So, on the precipice of what could be a very distressing financial situation, we bring out our childhood photo albums and test a new recipe for chocolate cake.
“Recession-core” certainly isn’t without fault, but it allows us to maintain a sense of lightness and whimsy. If nothing else, it brings us a sense of community — a parasocial support system. Sometimes, when threatened with impending economic downfall, the best we can do is brush the dust off our Beyblades. That’s #recessioncore.
Written by: Molly Thompson — mmtthompson@ucdavis.edu
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