Why We Should All Be Coconut Girls
Make it stand out
The promise of Hot Vaxx Summer might not have materialised and the weather is dismal but there’s one trend that’s flourished in spite, nay in defiance, of our murky socio-political climate. Enter: Coconut Girl, the bastard child of VSCO Girl and Seapunk.
Sun-drenched, pastel-splashed and fiercely nostalgic, Coconut Girl, which also goes by Lizzy Grant Summer and Key West Kitten can be loosely applied to anything Y2K and summery. Lizzo is a Coconut Girl, Bratz Beach Party Dolls are Coconut Girls (dibs on Jade!), even cake can be a Coconut Girl. Fashion data site Lyst reports #coconutgirl is the warm-weather trend of 2021 with “hibiscus”, “starfish,” and “seashell” trending.
Summer has come and gone (did it ever really start?) but tropical shirts and anklets are on the up, influencers are dressing like Zoey 101 and #coconutgirl has 128.2 million views on TikTok. It’s not hard to see the appeal of teenage trends.
“Y2K attracts young people today because the internet offers instant inspiration. I think people like the 2000s because there was a freedom of experimentation and expression,” notes stylist Valeria Chrampani, owner of the online shop 00sgarms. Nostalgia is a natural byproduct of our *literally* plagued times that have us longing for the seemingly uncomplicated ease of youth.
___STEADY_PAYWALL___
“My 2000’s was a time of little to no responsibilities. Those were happier and simpler times and that was the energy I felt the world needed when I started my jewellery brand last year,” says Cecilia Pérez de Acha López, of retro-inspired We In Bloom. Similarly, throwback shows like The OC and The Simple Life saw a rise during lockdown as we hunkered down, sought comfort in the familiar and slowly reverted to our teenage selves. On my lower days, sitting in my actual teenage bedroom, I took to rewatching Laguna Beach and wondered if I still had my Babyliss Crazy Braid.
“My anxieties - though manageable - were exacerbated by the media I consumed and images I was surrounded by.”
Growing up by the coast, surf fashion was always the default summer trend but as a pale, geeky and decidedly un-athletic teen, I never fit the bill despite my dedication to glittery sun cream and dolphin stick-on tattoos. And therein lies the problem with nostalgia; it relies on generously rose tinting reality. A quick roll-call of Y2K summer inspiration lists: Paris Hilton, Hawaiian Tropic, Elle Woods pre-Harvard, and everyone’s second favourite mermaid movie, Aquamarine (Splash forever, in my humble opinion). In short: thin, white, impossibly rich and an actual fish = unattainable body and beauty standards! And while there’s a new wave of coastal-cool brands that see beyond the standard blonde, tanned and sporty beach girls of Blue Crush yore, the real work is being done on the ground, or is that sand?
Sarah Hawke is one creative subverting Y2K trends and freeing them of their original constraints. Crochet, the cornerstone of any self-respecting Coconut Girl’s wardrobe, is Hawke’s medium of choice, citing the noughties as shaping her love “for all things yarn and hook.”
“Y2K, for me, is super nostalgic. When I think about the noughties, I’m instantly transported to sitting in front of the telly watching hours and hours of MTV, That’s So Raven, and occasionally a splash of Scuzz. That completely shaped my understanding of fashion.” says Hawke, who uses recycled cotton and upcycled plarn (plastic yarn) to ensure her handmade designs are as sustainable as possible. Though the early 2000s are gleefully regarded as a time of freedom and experimentation - the brief period post-internet and pre-social media, when we thought the World Wide Web would answer our problems, not add news ones - the era peddled damaging ideologies, obsessed over thinness and derided the marginalised communities it drew so much “inspiration” from.
Catherine Mhloyi, who calls herself a “Fat Bratz Doll” recalls how as a child she felt no one cared about the message they were giving kids. “They didn’t even care enough to make the shoes separate from the feet - it hurt that none of my other Bratz dolls could share shoes with Sasha because she was the only other Black one and all the other dolls had the same skin tone. All these messages grew roots in me at such an early age.” rememembers Mhloyi. It was also a time when everything was for the taking, from divorcing puka shells from their Hawaiian heritage and flogging cheap knock-offs, to broadly labelling everything vaguely “exotic”-looking as “boho” or worse, “ethnic”. Pérez de Acha López recalls “People constantly labeled me exotic, particularly when I was wearing shells or pearl necklaces. Some assumed it was part of my culture, rather than my desire to follow trends.”
The noughties also “stamped out whatever was left of the natural afro hair movement”, says Hawke, whose crochet creations incorporate a Black ergonomic design, “I make silk-lined afro-friendly hats or balaclavas that show off your locs, instead of suffocating them,” she says. Mhloyi is also subverting Y2K trends in her series “How I would dress in my favourite teen movies!”, which sees her give voice to a character that rarely makes it onto the screen. “It would be so amazing to see someone like me cast in a teen movie and to have their story be told because so far there’s nothing of the sort,” she says.
Augusta Yr is another creative reclaiming the era, her work draws from childhood references and Y2K visuals to transport viewers to a saturated wonderland of dancing avatars, pastel skies and glitchy landscapes that blur the boundary between nostalgia, fantasy and reality. “Being a kid during the early 2000’s and not being able to dress and buy the things I wanted means I’m now fulfilling my childhood.” notes the artist who’s embracing the very trends that once excluded her. It’s a sentiment shared by Mhloyi; “I’m reclaiming the time I lost as a child trying to shrink myself and assimilate in order to be fashionable. I want to be the doll that I wish I had as a kid.”
Through Yr’s art she’s been able to bring to life childhood fantasies that weren’t available to her at the time. “There were barely any cute plus size options at the time. Now there’s a little more freedom and more options.” she says before adding, “Thinness will always be a trend in any aesthetic as long as fatphobia and the lack of media representation for fat people continues.”
Despite undeniable privileges and insecurities I now recognise as textbook teenage concerns (braces, acne, a gangly frame that meant whatever fit me on the waist bashed my ankles, and asthma, which I was inexplicably mortified by for years), like most tweens, I was painfully self-conscious. My anxieties - though manageable - were exacerbated by the media I consumed and images I was surrounded by. Though a cursory Google search of Coconut Girl will still chuck up a carousel of Dua Lipa, Emily Ratajkowski, Addison Rae and the extended Kardashian-Jenner clan, today’s creators are helping drown out the white noise of homogeneous fashion, and in doing so, allowing everyone to ride the Coconut Girl wave.
“I want everyone to feel happy, to connect with their inner youngster and to come out the door with a powerful, uncomplicated energy,” explains jewellery designer Pérez de Acha López. “I want everyone to realise that the little kid that lives inside all of us is very much alive if we decide to embrace it.”
Words by Mischa Anouk Smith | Illustration by Gaby Whitehill
