You could say it has become “kinda chic” to declare the death of the word chic.
As the phrase has blanketed Instagram and TikTok, where people are declaring it “kinda chic” to drink matcha lattes, lift weights or tote books in their purses, critics have been griping that the true meaning of chic is now hopelessly lost.
As annoying as this meme has become, all of this whingeing about it feels self-serious and a bit rude. It fails to see what’s funny about the deliberately lowbrow use of “kinda,” deployed to undercut the less attainable state known as “chic.”
Chic is a high bar, but lots of things, when you think about it, can be kinda chic. (The complainers online are also sorta bragging, placing themselves above everyone else who doesn’t know better.)
The meme cuts right to the heart of everything that seems to make people anxious right now. It concerns taste and our sense of our own individuality. On X the other day, a photo of a young woman in a breezy white skirt who said it was “kinda chic” to wear whatever she wanted was swiftly followed by an accusation that her outfit had been decided for her by “the algorithm.”
True, nothing on the internet is chic. It’s chic with an asterisk. Chic with a disclaimer that says “algorithmically selected.” Nothing so digitally spoon-fed could ever rise to the level of chic, which requires not only a human touch but a three-dimensional experience. Chic has texture.
Many of us know this instinctively and are hyperaware that algorithms and A.I. shape what we see and like, threatening another tenet of chicness: the ability to make aesthetic choices based on our intuitions and personalities. When we see someone else participating in the mass culture of the internet, it activates a mortifying human need to assert that we’re different.
But back to the word itself. Chic is a perfect word because it has no true synonym. No matter how other people use it, you can still preserve its special meaning for yourself and — if its overuse is what offends you — use it sparingly.
As I thought through what “chic” meant to me, I poked around The Times’s archives. The definition I found that resonated with me most was from a column printed in 1877 with no name attached: “What is chic may, in a sense, be fashionable, but what is fashionable cannot be chic. Anybody can wear and do what is fashionable.” And, the writer added, “it has the quickness of a hummingbird and the vitality of an eel.”
It may be the case that drinking a matcha and posting about it on social media can’t be chic. But as this anonymous writer tells us, “chic” is a flickering, slippery thing. Always, though, you know it when you feel it or see it.
Other things worth knowing about:
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Erin Magee, who has been chief creative officer of Supreme since 2004, announced on Instagram this week that she was stepping down. Twenty-two years at one job is a lifetime in the fashion industry, and Magee was critical to Supreme’s leap from a streetwear cult to a globally recognized brand.
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Thank you to the readers who chimed in after the last newsletter with even more woven slide examples, including these from Sabah. Shoe of the summer confirmed.
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This T-shirt captures one strain of sentiment about A.I.
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Toteme, the Swedish quiet luxury-ish brand that has produced viral hits for women like the scarf jacket and the T-lock handbag, has released its first men’s wear drop. The Toteme woman seems clear. But who is the Toteme man?
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Margaret Qualley actually wore the Chanel barefoot shoes.
What we’re reading:
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Rachel Cusk had been silent about her new novel, “Life of M,” which for weeks has been the subject of frenzied discussion about the similarities between the hazy “M” character and the actress Natalie Portman. But now Cusk is talking — specifically, to the Styles reporter Alexandra Alter, who landed an exclusive interview with Cusk this week. “It’s very stressful, the thought of these things happening,” Cusk said of the swirl of gossip surrounding the book, speaking from her home on the west coast of France. “It’s taking the novel that I’ve created into almost a sort of courtroom or a factual fight.
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Vanity Fair’s profile of Lauren Sherman, obviously.
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Is surfing a kind of dance? Yes, the Times critic Gia Kourlas says in her piece on Caitlin Simmers, a surfer who “zips through the water like a mercurial ballerina whipping across the stage in tight, rapid-fire turns.”
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Tina Brown writes about Meghan and Harry, as only she could.
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“You need the ugly to appreciate the beauty. Otherwise you don’t understand anything.”
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And finally, here’s a brief Times syllabus for further reading on “chic”:
This story from 1925 with an enviably baroque headline: “DEFINITION OF CHIC FINDS PARIS DIVIDED; Princess Murat Says Eve Had It, While a Painter Says Short Skirts Dispel It.”Cathy Horyn’s 2001 critic’s notebook, in which she writes: “Chic is a million-dollar feeling that doesn’t look as if it costs you a million.”And this obituary for Charlotte Curtis, a Times columnist who stood 5-foot-1 in Chanel pumps: She made her name “leavening serious pieces” with “unexpected essays on lighter subjects, such as an exchange of letters between Henry Miller and Erica Jong.”
Ask Vanessa
I hate jeans. Always have. They feel stiff, and if they fit at the waist, there’s excess fabric at the hip. If they fit in the hip, the waist gaps. Since the pandemic, I have leaned into athleisure but find it can look sloppy. What’s the alternative? — Sue, Edmonton, Alberta
First of all, know that you are not alone. The actress Eva Mendes once called jeans her “worst nightmare.” Seth Rogen told Jennifer Hudson he doesn’t own a single pair. “They’re constricted, they’re heavy, they’re weird,” he said. Kevin Hart announced he stopped wearing them after he turned 40 because “jeans hurt and are not comfortable.” Dita Von Teese said she finds them “unappealing.” Whole Reddit threads are devoted to people complaining about jeans. … Read more.
Look of the week
The post The Slipperiness of ‘Chic’ appeared first on New York Times.
