Okay so last week I was at this dinner party—well, more like tacos and wine at my friend Jess’s apartment but we’re calling it a dinner party because we actually used napkins—and I saw something that made me realize the entire beauty game has shifted. My friend Maya walked in looking absolutely chaotic in the best possible way. Her hair was doing this messy thing that definitely wasn’t accidental, her eyeliner was smudged like she’d been out until 3am (she probably had), and her vintage slip dress looked like she’d slept in it. When I asked about her vibe she just shrugged and said “I’m over trying to look perfect all the time.”
And honestly? Same.
I’ve been watching this shift happen on my feeds for months now and I think we’ve officially entered what I’m calling the feral girl era. Clean girl summer is dead and we killed it, thank god.
If you somehow missed the clean girl thing—lucky you, honestly—it was basically about looking effortlessly perfect which is obviously an oxymoron but whatever. Think slicked back buns that required actual gel products, “no makeup” makeup that took forty minutes to apply, neutral everything, and this whole aesthetic that screamed “I wake up like this” when clearly nobody wakes up like that unless they sleep sitting upright.
I fell for it completely last year. Spent way too much money at Sephora trying to achieve that glass skin look that mostly just made me look greasy. Bought one of those weird bun tools that made my head look like a cue ball. Convinced myself that wearing seventeen shades of beige was a personality trait. It was exhausting and expensive and I never actually looked like the girls on TikTok anyway.
The breaking point came when I found myself standing in my tiny bathroom at 6:30 AM trying to perfect my “natural” look before meeting my manager at the boutique. I had literally seven products on my face—SEVEN—and was wondering if I looked dewy or just sweaty when it hit me: this is completely insane. Nobody needs to look this polished to fold clothes and help customers find their size.
Feral girl is the complete opposite and I’m here for it. It’s about embracing the mess instead of hiding from it. Smudged makeup that looks cool instead of tragic. Hair that’s doing its own thing and we’re just along for the ride. Clothes that look lived-in because they actually are. It’s giving “I have a life outside of my mirror” which is refreshing after years of content about morning routines that took longer than my actual job.
The shift started happening slowly, then all at once. Bella Hadid swapped her sleek looks for rumpled vintage tees and jeans that looked stolen from a 2003 time capsule. Makeup artists on TikTok started posting tutorials about how to make your eyeliner look like you cried in a pretty way. Even the fashion girls started showing up to events looking deliberately undone.
What I love about this whole thing is that it feels like permission to be human again. Clean girl was about control—everything perfectly placed, not a hair out of line, the visual equivalent of having your life together when the world was literally falling apart. Feral girl is about letting go of that impossible standard and actually enjoying how you look.
Maya put it perfectly that night: “Clean girl energy is meal prep and eight hours of sleep and scheduled workouts. Feral girl energy is ordering pizza at midnight and dancing in your kitchen and texting people back three days later. Which one sounds more fun to you?”
Obviously there’s still strategy involved—this isn’t actually about looking like garbage, it’s about looking like beautiful garbage. The messy bun still frames your face the right way. The smudged eyeliner enhances instead of detracts. The wrinkled linen is expensive wrinkled linen from Reformation, not a random shirt from your bedroom floor. It’s calculated chaos, not actual chaos.
But honestly? That’s fine with me. Fashion has always been about trying on different versions of yourself to see what sticks. Clean girl let us pretend we were naturally perfect. Feral girl lets us pretend we’re authentically imperfect, which somehow feels more honest even when it’s equally constructed.
I think this whole shift reflects how tired we all are of impossible standards. After years of filters and procedures and products designed to erase every trace of being human, there’s something almost rebellious about showing up with bedhead and yesterday’s mascara. The feral aesthetic basically says yes I have pores, yes my clothes wrinkle, yes my hair does weird things sometimes, and actually all of that is totally fine.
Even the fashion industry is catching on. Rachel Comey’s recent collection was all about intentionally rumpled fabrics and beautiful disarray. Miu Miu keeps putting out pieces that look like they were found in the world’s chicest thrift store. At the last fashion week I covered for content, all the street style stars getting photographed were the ones who looked like they might’ve come straight from an all-night party.
My own closet has gone through a major feral transformation. I retired the slicking gel and embraced my natural texture, which is best described as “what happens when you air dry and hope for the best.” I’ve rediscovered vintage band tees with mysterious stains that somehow make them more interesting. I finally stopped fighting my linen pieces when they wrinkle because that’s literally what linen does and trying to prevent it is like trying to stop the sun from setting.
The most liberating part has been approaching getting dressed with play instead of precision. No more outfit formulas or careful color coordination. Now I mix patterns that shouldn’t work but somehow do, layer things in ways that make no logical sense, and generally look like I got dressed in the dark but in a chic way.
There’s something physical about feral dressing too—like clothes are meant to be lived in instead of just worn for photos. It’s the difference between keeping something pristine in your closet and actually wearing it until it tells the story of everywhere you’ve been. Every wrinkle and faded spot becomes part of the narrative.
Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t completely abandoned skincare or thrown out all my nice clothes. Like most trends, the reality exists on a spectrum. There are still times when I need to look more put-together, and I’m not about to show up to a brand meeting looking like I just rolled out of bed. The difference is that it doesn’t feel like a personal failure when things aren’t perfect—it just feels like a different kind of intentional.
If you’re curious about trying feral girl summer but aren’t ready to go full chaos mode, start small. Maybe wear your hair in its actual texture instead of heat styling it into submission. Try mixing a pattern you’ve never dared to wear. Stop ironing that linen dress and see how it looks with some natural wrinkles. Or just wear that slightly stained vintage tee you love but have been too self-conscious to actually leave the house in.
The whole point isn’t looking messy for the sake of being messy—it’s about finding beauty in imperfection and freedom in letting go of standards that were probably impossible anyway. It’s like that Japanese thing about finding beauty in broken pottery, except applied to the way we present ourselves to the world.
Maya texted me a few days after that dinner: “I got more compliments on that chaotic look than anything I’ve worn in months. Plus it took me ten minutes to get ready instead of an hour. I think I’m officially converted.”
Honestly, we all are at this point. After spending so much time and money trying to look effortlessly perfect, actually being effortlessly imperfect feels like the rebellion we didn’t know we needed. Clean girl summer had its moment, but feral girl summer? That’s where we’re living now.
Brooklyn’s a 24-year-old content creator from Austin who lives where fashion meets TikTok. She covers Gen Z trends, viral styles, and the messy reality of making fashion content for a living. Expect energy, honesty, and unapologetic fun.
