Era Of Sad Girl Trend: Must We Really Glamorise Everything?

Whispers of the ocean breeze, hair dancing in its own rhythm, light cotton dress, and floral bandana. Lana Del Ray's 'Summertime Sadness' in the background as a glistening tear gently rolls onto the curve of the cheeks. Dramatic, isn't it? But doesn't it sound familiar?

Wait, let me paint another picture for you.

Blaring horns, messy hair, runny mascara, snotty nose, aimless, erratic walking as the eyes search for something elusive. Ring a bell? If it hasn't, dearie me, on behalf of all Fleabag fans, we are disappointed. Truly!

The rise of TikTok, Tumblr, Pinterest, Reels, etc., has popularised the term ‘aesthetic’. Not a single post on social media will be untouched by the word ‘aesthetic’ in their comments section. This wave of aestheticism has engulfed tears in its embrace. I remember watching Anatomy of Fall, and the protagonist (still debatable) says, “It's better to cry in a car than in a subway.” How disheartened do romantics feel about this? Subways, metro stations, and beaches are some of the most dreamy places to tear up, besides social media (obviously).

Long gone are the days when emotional expression will be suppressed; rather, they are celebrated based on their aesthetic merits. Blushing cheeks! Glistening eyes! Prominent lashes! In fact, when I was reading up, I came across a trend called “crying makeup,” started by Zoe Kim Kenealy, which, to date, has about 130 million views. It allows you to look vulnerable but impressively attractive. These crying makeup videos capture the essence of “sad girl autumn” (which, by the way, has its abbreviation, SGA).

SGA trends encompass ‘the cottagecore aesthetic’ and the ‘Fleabag aesthetic,’ which I painted for you. In fact, the hashtag #sadgirl has over 13 billion views on TikTok and 2 million posts on Instagram. It's a real thing folks, look it up on Pinterest. 

Sad Girl Aesthetics: Alarming yet fascinating!

This begs the question, have we gone too far? Crying, tears, aesthetics—all in the same breath. Well, I would be lying if I denied imagining myself in “the cottagecore aesthetic,” cotton dress, floral bandana, running and weeping, chasing the torn pages, and so on. You got the gist! At times, I have also imagined just erratically walking with runny mascara like our dearest Fleabag. I don't know whose fault it is. Pretty crying is a staple in Hollywood, Bollywood, with heroines throwing themselves on the bed, letting out heart-wrenching sobs while burying their face in the pillows with melancholic melodies in the background. Any visions of Kajol from DDLJ?

Why do we have this incessant urge to beautify and make everything aesthetically appealing? It's like—you can cry your bawls out, but your eyeliner needs to stay as winged as it was. When Bella Hadid posted her crying selfies, it was an attempt to de-stigmatise vulnerabilities and mental health issues. We all feel the grass is greener on the other side but forget we share the same sky.

Pain, grief, and sorrow are felt by all, and when someone as influential as Hadid, Lizzo, Deepika Padukone, etc. share their breakdowns with us, we feel togetherness. Suddenly, we are the epitome of positivity: “It's okay to not be okay. It's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay to cry. It's legitimate. It’s acceptable.” What it sometimes feels like is sophisticated and posh. We share stories of our heartbreak because whatever celebrities do is the “new cool”.

It is disheartening that as a society, which has since time immemorial thrived on the images of tragic women ranging from portrayal of Cleopatra's suicide to plays like A Streetcar Named Desire to series like Fleabag, coerces us to seek legitimacy and validation for our grief, our sorrows from others. Pain has been a powerful muse for heartbreaking art. From Van Gogh to Taylor Swift, we see their art speaking to us about them. In such contexts, the romanticisation of crying doesn't seem exaggerated.

The representation of grief, of crying in our minds and social media in the form of sad girl autumn or Fleabag is far from what crying looks like for the majority. For me, even though in my mind I look like a mythical enchantress coming out of lavender fields in my corset dress, weeping, but when I see the mirror, all I see are snots, smudged eyes, and chapped lips. This glamorisation and romanticisation of sorrow through trends and Tumblr threads misrepresent and propagate a ‘perfect’ idea of sadness.

Can there be perfection in sadness, in grieving? We already torture ourselves with the ‘perfect’ idea of happiness, chasing it despite its misgivings. Why did we have to do that to sadness? Even in solitude, we picture ourselves in a wooden cabin, surrounded by books and plants on an autumn evening. A voice in my mind would scream, “Jesus Christ, just be in the moment and grieve. You are not in a movie.” Have we truly gone this far?

Why fetishisation of sadness is problematic 

The fetishization and commodification of sadness pose a real danger as it blurs the line between exploitation, expression, and empowerment. When Adele shares her divorce news or Deepika her mental health trajectory, it's to generate awareness and de-stigmatise issues like mental health to enable conversations around them. Glamorization also poses the threat of trivializing vulnerability, which anyway is taboo. It's a beautiful thing that millennials and GenZ are not shying away from accepting and embracing their flaws, sharing them with the world, inspiring people and forging a transcending sense of belonging. But, over-romanticisation may have triggering effects for some who don't look anything like sad girl autumn, right out of a cottage or forest. It could lead to a barrage of self-image issues.

As a collective, we have come very far with our efforts to normalise conversations around vulnerabilities and mental health. Precisely why, it’s necessary to tread carefully with this aestheticization of tears. The society hasn't been kind to its womenfolk and other marginalised sections, burying them under the debris of labels. Forcing the idea of perfection and beauty, society has not let us be who we are. Let's not do that to us, in sadness, at least, especially given how lonely it is. Let's be there for sadness, let it unfurl the way it wants. Let's not wrong sadness, like we have done to happiness.

The “sad girl” aesthetic is a murky terrain, one that needs to be traversed with subjectivity. Having said that, it's undeniable that when used productively and appropriately, it can be a subversive outlet. It can provide solace to thousands who are fighting the same demons. But, let's be aware not to push sadness and crying into patriarchy's lap by labelling and stereotyping it so that we can be better humans.

This, however, doesn't discourage softness or embracing of vulnerabilities. These are worthwhile pursuits and we need more of them. In the end, it's all about—you do you. If you want to feel pretty in your ‘cottagecore, vintage’ aesthetic, by all means, enjoy it with your favourite melancholic playlist. But, let's be kind to each other, allow others to be themselves and walk at their own pace. Let's be, simply.

Views expressed by the author are their own