Not cloned in the way you're thinking you're cloned but cloned nonetheless
Now, let us take a moment to notice how how truly integrated we are with the internet. An age in which almost all of your interactions, entertainment, and work reside on it, unless you still use CDs, write with a pen, go to the market, pay using paper currency and don't use the WhatsApp app. Since we are basically living our lives through the digital realm, every single one of our likes and dislikes, comforts and insecurities, fears and desires, and all of that jazz, reside in our virtual abodes along with us and are linked directly to us.
Moreover, the digitisation of our individual identities, right down to our unique compositions through compulsory surveys and whatnot, adds to this digital blueprint of our that, even though not yet fully formed, has all the ingredients relating to the entirety of our literal beings.
At this rate, a biological clone would, in a way, be less of a threat than a virtual one.
The A-word
You've taken a look at a pair of Christmas socks on a website you remember from when you bought your last pair a few years ago. Finding an annoyingly convenient sock advert on social media right after is no coincidence. The internet, which was frankly never modelled with privacy in the first place, is basically a glass shower curtain at the moment. And with consumerism being at its peak with an appetite for destruction, even the most dim-witted corporations have noticed this and made use of the almighty algorithm. There, we said it.
Sadly, the use of the A-word doesn't end with consumerism. It seeps into every single individual's online realm, predicting and suggesting what they might want to see, whilst completely robbing them of the experience of stumbling onto something randomly by their own free will. This means that what might be 'trending' is only shown to you after passing a preference check. If it doesn't, you might never see the thing again.
You might not have known about the existence of the insanely popular Stanley Cup up until just now. Not because you couldn't be bothered, but because a guy in a chair decided you liked socks more.
The earth isn't flat. But we're getting there.
We have somehow wandered into an age where everything looks eerily similar. Phones with seventeen cameras, cars with unibrows, shoes that look like bean bags, Instagram influencers with the same set of teeth, and so on. Now, we understand that this is how fashion, culture, and capitalism work - competitors hopping onto the profit bandwagon, all wanting a piece of the pie. But no longer is there a sense of radical one-upmanship. Now, there is one singular idea that pops up every now and then, followed by a safe and calculated game of catch-up, mining rewards for almost no risk.
Risks are what made cars of the 50s look like spaceships. Risks are what led to the commoditisation and mass production of the electric guitar by Leo Fender. Risks are what let to the revolutionary moving assembly line by Henry Ford. Risks are what made Prince, Freddie Mercury, and Amy Winehouse. They knew that what they were doing could end with a tumble and crash, but they had the courage and the creativity to carry on anyway.
The world, as it spins now, doesn't seem to be churning out new ideas, but flattening into a beige abyss. An era of aesthetic flattening. Is this a result of a plateauing of ideas, or the fear of pioneering?
Or is it something more existential? Is it because of instant information fuelled by capitalism and consumerism? There's no escaping the reality of competitors being forced to copy and reproduce trendsetters; this has happened for generations. But does this mean that this is the bland direction the world is heading towards, or are we just being apocalyptically cynical?
Beat on the brat
Subcultures used to be acts of resistance, not aesthetic templates.
Taking one of the most influential movements that started in the 1960s, punk was an anti-establishment subculture, born out of angsty misfits calling out corporate and political dogmas and greed with power chords, blunt vocals, red mohawks, skateboards, and graffiti. It was also around this time that the Converse sneaker was adopted and soon became a punk staple. Tommy Ramone of The Ramones said, "In the 60s and 70s, it was still rebellious to wear sneakers outside of the gym. Doing that was anti-establishment. It was punky and snotty to wear sneakers instead of shoes". And just like that, a style was born from friction against exclusion, a rebellion for that sake of justice in the real world. A style that influenced a movement, and not just another short video.
Today, the meaning of the word 'subculture' has morphed into trends and templates. "It Girl", "This Girl", all conveniently packaged to act as a stencil in order to churn out content. The goal now, is to be "a part of" with nothing to stand for.
"To create is to stand in front of a blank canvas, scared shitless" is but a fleeting image.
The Infinity TV
We are living in a paradox. With creative tools being more accessible now than were in any other time in all of history and more powerful than anything creators of the past ever used, and with mediums of communication being, well, basically instantaneous, there has literally never been a better time in all of history to create and express. It's safe to say that the quality and quantity of pieces of art and self-expression is at its peak. But... why don't we see it?
One explanation is that they're not on the internet. But that's a ridiculous idea because everything is on the internet!
The thing is, social media worked differently in the past. If you followed 50 people, you'd see the things people uploaded as a timeline. There was variety, and it was, most importantly, finite. There weren't any recommendations. It was unique, and it was for fun. It felt cozy. "Trends" used to seem fun back then because you saw people you voluntarily followed voluntarily performing them. But now, the Instagram feed has become a bottomless pit of people you've never seen before doing things like drinking kombucha and playing pickleball because their personal style is dictated by a performance metric.
This sameness isn't failure of imagination. It seems to be the outcome of an era defined by overexposure, insecurity, and exhaustion.
'Fur', more commonly known as 'Fluff'
Fast fashion thrives on the business of style laundering, turning luxury looks into dupes in days. Luxury-mass seeds the illusion of "exclusivity" through influencer gifting, both profiting from engineered sameness. Together, they choreograph sameness, teaching consumers to crave distinction that arrives pre-approved since it is derived from the runway. Because of this, taste becomes predictable. Rebellion is branded. Selfhood is no longer resistance. It is replicated: clone after clone after clone.
Next time you say, "This is so me", ask yourself, "Is it really? Or is it the algorithm's echo?"
So, where do we stand?
We work with brands that understand identity isn't discovered solely through reproducing trends, but believe in collaboration with intentional construction and strategic aesthetics. Work that resists flattening.
If you're interested in building something that actually stands for something, you know where to find us.
