Who is Missing From the Coastal Grandmother Trend?
Somewhere between sounding the death knell for Twee and the chaotic rise of the dissociative pout, yet another trend shimmied its way into TikTok hall of fame–and consequently into larger cultural discourse–the coastal grandmother. Who is she you may ask? The coastal grandma is not your typical knits-sweaters-on-a-warm-winter-morning gal, so let me paint you a picture. This woman wakes up at the crack of dawn to watch the waves hit the shore from the patio of her two-storeyed beach house. She would never drink instant coffee in a £2 mug from a charity shop; instead she drinks her medium roast blend with a dollop of cream in a vintage cup that will eventually be passed down.
The coastal grandmother spends her mornings tending to tulips and cosmos before settling into brunch with a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. Her kitchen–expansive open plan, of course–is dotted with state of the art appliances that mostly go untouched; she doesn’t cook, she is served. Somewhere in the midst of exposed wood furniture, marble counters, luxe candles and limited edition coffee table books lies a wardrobe plush with egg-shell white turtlenecks, cashmere sweaters, linen blend trousers, breathable silk kaftans and straw hats that she wears on weekly visits to the farmers market. If you are imagining American actor Diane Keaton as Erica Barry in Something’s Gotta Give, you hit the nail on the head.
Popularised in March by California-based TikToker Lex Nicoleta as “Martha Stewart–adjacent, not fully Ina Garten...Nancy Meyers chic”, the coastal grandmother trend set the internet ablaze with the hashtag alone receiving over 30 million views on TikTok. In fact, Keaton, the muse herself, submitted to the trend by posting about it on Instagram while actor Anne Hathaway uploaded a picture dressed in a white button-down shirt and a straw hat. The caption read: “I have been ready for #coastalgrandmother chic since before TikTok was born. May this moment never end.” Alongside celebrities, numerous TikTokers across the Western world engage in the aesthetic, posting videos dressed as coastal grandmas or listening to the Spotify playlist curated by Nicoleta for this mood. The trend quickly proliferated to enter other spheres of lifestyle, you can now also find cocktail recipes to entertain and movies to watch as a coastal grandmother.
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As I scroll through this unending rabbit hole, I notice a glaring absence, something feels uncomfortably different on this side of TikTok. And then it hits me all at once like a truck–the coastal grandmother trend skips people of colour. More attentive, I peruse through the videos waiting to spot someone who is Black or Brown (like me) participating in this shiny new aesthetic. Eventually, I discovered a handful but unlike others capitalising on the trending hashtag’s reach with thousands of likes, the videos by people of colour have about 200 views. “I spend a lot of time on TikTok to stay on beat with new trends and I had never heard of the coastal grandmother,” says Alyssa Mosley (@cherryemojixo), a social media stylist and fashion analyst based in New York. The 23-year-old African American uses TikTok to study trends and highlight designers of colour.
Alyssa wasn’t alone in her oblivion. I reached out to numerous TikTokers of colour like Cole Habersham (@cashmeretote), Mehek Bukhari (@mehek.mp4) and Anita Chhiba (@dietparatha) to understand why they steered clear of the aesthetic. Turns out, none of them had seen the coastal grandmother trend on the app despite staying attune to quickly changing social media moods. The TikTok algorithm curates every user’s ‘for you’ page based on what they surround themselves with. In 2020, Marc Faddoul, an AI researcher at UC Berkeley School of Information found that TikTok is more likely to show you creators who look similar to those you already follow. In light of this information, knowing that the coastal grandma trend skipped these people of colour raises more questions of inclusivity.
For Mehek, who is British Pakistani, the coastal grandmother aesthetic holds no nostalgia, in fact it appears as an antithesis to her grandmother’s personal style that consists of bright printed salwar kameez and tinted brown sunglasses. “Since the language focuses on neutral tones and minimalism it almost positions itself above anyone who doesn’t submit to it. In contrast, South Asian wardrobes are dictated by colour, texture and maximalism–it is an innate part of our culture,” she explains. Alyssa agrees, “Technically my grandma is a coastal grandmother but she does not fit the description at all. Her house isn’t all white and teak, it has framed photographs of Martin Luther King because she lived through the civil rights movement.”
It is ironic that the coastal grandmother trend–which subscribes to white western styles–is gaining steam online in parallel to the auntycore aesthetic that is thriving among people of colour offline. “Both trends are similar in referencing the lifestyle of a generation before us and hinging on luxe comfort. Yet they are so different; auntycore resonates more with people of colour, it is embodied in having fun with textures and patterns,” says Cole, adding that he would love to see the style grow on social media.
“I can’t help but be flummoxed; in a post BLM age, shouldn’t we have moved leagues past glitchy representation?”
In her videos, Nicoleta emphasises the trend she created is for people of all ages, races and genders–she tokenistically breaks the monotony with the mention of Oprah, an affluent Black woman. It is not to say that the creator consciously intends to be exclusive, however the coastal grandmother trend inevitably emerges as a euphemism for an affluent white woman. Blakely Thornton, a social media creative based in California, believes the aesthetic excludes people of colour because it screams generational wealth which very few Black American families had access to–decades ago, a Black woman would not even be allowed to own a house in the country.
He asserts that the trend is reminiscent of an era when white women were centrestage while marginalised communities were used to layer their personalities through tropes of the “responsible Black sidekick” or the “sassy gay best friend”. The aesthetic looks a lot like Chesapeake Shores, the ignorant Netflix show from 2016 set in a small American town that was devoid of any people of colour. I can’t help but be flummoxed; in a post BLM age, shouldn’t we have moved leagues past glitchy representation? How do trends like the coastal grandmother still exist and thrive in 2022? Why are we allowing it?
Words: Darshita Goyal
