Low-rise pants, tube tops, miniskirts, and skinny jeans; plastic, vinyl, fur, mesh, and velour; metallics, animal prints, and rhinestones—are you drooling, too? Like clockwork, campy styles that were once retrospectively “tacky” now reign on Depop and fuel the designs of Dolls Kill and I.AM.GIA. They’re resurging as vintage grails, replicated by fast-fashion retailers, and being paid homage on 2021 designer runways.

This is the age that the internet saves us—for real this time. Welcome to the resurgence of Y2K. 

Referring to “Year 2000,” this era of aesthetics embraced a technology-driven utopia (and possible dystopia, i.e. The Matrix), as people anticipated the next millennium and dreamed toward a new world called “the internet.” Flash-forward to today, over a year of relying on the internet for most aspects of life, and emerging into a “roaring 

‘20s,” which promises dramatic technological development (and a more tangible risk of dystopia), it’s fitting that we’re rejoicing in the future, yet again, through fashion—even if it’s literally recycled. 

While Millenials are inclined to sport ‘90s-wear, members of Generation Z are connecting online, in true Y2K fashion (wink-wink!) over nostalgia that’s stirring their hearts and young wallets. 

We can finally live out our Lizzie McGuire and Cheetah Girl fantasies in head-to-toe animal print or stacked jelly accessories. We’re revisiting bitchy Bratz doll glitz and the femme-rocker style Lindsay Lohan repped in Freaky Friday—e-girl, bleach-blonde streaks and all. And let’s not gloss over velour tracksuits, which were immediately re-embraced as loungewear etched its own market during lockdowns in 2020. 

Paris Hilton is the first person who comes to mind when the words “Juicy Couture” are uttered, though, like many emblems of the early 2000s, those velour two-pieces have origins in Black culture and exist as white-washed memories. Kimora Lee Simmons of Baby Phat actually introduced velour tracksuits two years before Juicy, and she drew inspiration from men’s streetwear and hip-hop culture. Baby Phat designs were skin-baring, shrunken, and fitted to the curves of the feminine form, an unprecedented development in streetwear, because it included women. 

Black contributions defined the early 2000s aesthetic, embracing a modern interpretation of ‘70s Afrofuturism, vanguarded by stars like Janet Jackson, Missy Elliott, Lil’ Kim, and Destiny’s Child. As pop culture embraced hip-hop, its fashion followed. Body-conscious styles went mainstream, and white women popularized them in the media. “It girls” boasted an aesthetic that was skinny, blonde, and luxurious, one that young women aspired to. 

Magazines and music videos only represented the “as thin as possible” ideal. Back then, there was no “body positivity” movement. There weren’t TikToks breaking down topics like body dysmorphia, eating disorders, and fatphobia’s deep roots in racism. 

As these styles return, it’s worth unpacking what should’ve been addressed the first time around: Y2K trends are catered to skinny people. Fashion communities on social media have raised the question, “Is it a good outfit, or is she just skinny?” 

This refers to the reality that skinny bodies are often praised in these styles, while if a non-skinny body wore the same pieces, they’d be met with judgment. For example, low-rise jeans and crop tops are meant to show off flat stomachs, so when someone who doesn’t have a flat stomach wears them, the garments become “unflattering” and are “showing too much skin.” These trends teach us to cover natural parts of anybody, like lower belly fat, and to be ashamed of it. 

Twitter sounded off: “The way y2k fashion coming back and is mostly accessible to one specific body type is really frustrating to see. I’m exhausted of thin girls flexing ‘looks’ that aren’t actually looks, but rather just a display of how skinny they are” (@gem_femme ); “The irony of the y2k tracksuit resurgence centering thin Black women’s bodies is not lost on me when growing up, them velour tracksuits was the only thing that fit me” (@hotmutualz); “idk how to feel about clothes I saw people ridiculed for wearing as a medium sized kid now being ‘retro y2k fashion’ and trendy for skinny bodies only” (@carpfishboy).

Body-positive influencer Jessica Blair explains on TikTok, “Although anybody above a size 2 seemed to be demonized, fat people were blatantly ignored. Clothing options for plus-sized people in the early 2000s were virtually nonexistent, thereby completely excluding fat people from fashion.” 

To avoid dangerous mistakes of the past, we must consider who’s been excluded or erased from resurging style movements. We must also acknowledge thin privilege, which is no secret to the fashion industry, but affects accessibility to inclusive sizing. 

These arbitrary rules have no place in our world today. Fashion is meant to be fun. It’s not fun when we can’t all play together.