Do kids still call each other posers? I genuinely don’t know. Maybe that word has gone the way of glittery gel pens and MySpace Top 8 drama, or maybe it’s just shape-shifted into some Gen Z–approved slang I haven’t yet decoded. My only window into teenage life these days is TikTok, or whatever my niece tells me when I grill her like a slightly out-of-touch aunt. From what I can gather, the younger generations are more open about style exploration, identity shifts, and personal reinvention. But then again, that might just be online. Real life tends to play by different rules.
And with no true divide anymore between “school” and “personal life” — everything now streaming in real time through Instagram stories or a TikTok feed — I can’t help but wonder: has it gotten better? Or has it gotten harder?
The poser years
I don’t remember anyone ever calling me a poser outright, but I do remember how the fear of being labeled one hovered in the air. It was like an unspoken threat — try too hard to reinvent yourself, and someone might clock you for “faking it.” I was a little offbeat, never fully belonging to any subculture, which in hindsight may have saved me. I floated somewhere in between, trying things out, shedding them, moving on without much scrutiny.
Except, of course, during my late teens and early twenties. Those were my scene kid years — a blur of teased hair, side bangs, band tees, and, for a brief but glorious moment, a mullet. That phase taught me how fun it could be to align yourself with a group, to feel like your outfit was part of a larger language. Even if that language was written in eyeliner and safety pins.
The blessing of invisibility
Being unpopular in high school has its hidden perks. Adults used to tell me, “Don’t worry, it just means you haven’t peaked yet.” Which felt like a backhanded compliment at the time, but they weren’t entirely wrong. What they didn’t mention, though, was how freeing it could be. When you’re not in the spotlight, you get room to play. You can try on latex pants one week and Abercrombie polos the next without much consequence. You can evolve without everyone narrating your every move.
That kind of freedom is underrated. It’s much easier to figure out your style when you don’t have a social standing to protect. To this day, I think of invisibility as a blessing.
The poser paradox
Still, I remember the kids who weren’t so lucky. If someone known as a “mainstream” type suddenly came to school in Vans but wasn’t a skater, the whispers would start. Or if they showed up looking goth one week and preppy the next, the label “poser” was waiting. The logic was absurd: if your clothes didn’t perfectly align with your hobbies, you were faking it. As if identity had to be one-dimensional, forever locked in.
And while many of those kids powered through and kept experimenting, I often wonder how many quietly gave up. How many boxed up their Manic Panic dye and went back to Sun-In, how many swapped out their ripped fishnets for bootcut jeans just to avoid the scrutiny. That’s the part that stings — not the ridicule itself, but the lost opportunities to explore.
Style without apology
Here’s what I want to say now, from my Nyquil-induced millennial soapbox: there’s nothing wrong with experimenting, and there’s nothing wrong with blending in. Loving what’s trendy doesn’t make you basic, and loving what’s niche doesn’t make you special. You don’t need to prove your authenticity by fitting neatly into a box.
Style is supposed to be alive. It’s supposed to change, to contradict itself, to surprise even you. One day it’s oversized blazers and gold hoops, the next it’s a graphic tee from Target that just feels right. Both are valid. Both are yours.
If you grew up believing you had to commit to one aesthetic or risk being called a poser, I hope you’ve started to unlearn that. And if you haven’t, here’s your permission slip. Wear the kooky outfit that makes you grin. Wear the plain white tee that feels like home. Then change it up again tomorrow.
Because here’s the truth: it’s never too late to find your style. And it’s certainly never too late to change it. Again and again and again.
And if anyone dares to call you a poser? Send them my way. I’d love to have a word.
