Mere days into 2024, we already have our first microtrend of the year: the “eclectic grandpa.” Coined by Pinterest as one of their 2024 trend predictions, the eclectic grandpa is all about colorful knitwear, tweed, loafers, patterned boxer shorts, sensible sneakers, baseball caps, and wristwatches; key words: retro, custom, vintage. “Because the coastal grandma aesthetic is so last year,” Pinterest wrote.
And that’s exactly the problem. Just as quickly as dressing like a Nancy Meyers character captured the zeitgeist, it became passé, styling oneself like a kooky old man taking its place. It’s not novel to disapprove of the the trend cycle’s rapid acceleration, but the eclectic grandpa fad seems uniquely expressive of the issue at hand: Not only is overhauling one’s wardrobe wildly expensive and unsustainable, it eschews the core value of grandpa style, putting a soulless replica in its place.
The entire point of the trend is to dress like somebody who has spent a lifetime curating a collection of clothing and accessories that speak to his own individuality. But, as with all microtrends, one is supposed to accumulate these items seemingly overnight. The eclectic grandpa is a trend hellbent on commodifying an idea of personal style without actually having it. It relies on pieces—sweaters, loafers, watches, hats, glasses—meant to last decades, if not a lifetime. Pieces one wears into old age, because they are made to last, not to be posted on TikTok.
The entire reason that the elderly dress this way is because they’ve purchased high-quality goods with longevity, rather than cheap garments destined to end up in a landfill after a few wears. As Amanda Mull noted in The Atlantic, the quality of knitwear has dropped precipitously over the years: “Knits used to be made entirely from natural fibers. These fibers usually came from shearing sheep, goats, alpacas, and other animals. Sometimes, plant-derived fibers such as cotton or linen were blended in. Now…the overwhelming majority of yarn used in mass-market knitwear is blended with some type of plastic. Most commonly, this means polyester, polyamide, or acrylic.” The changing composition of our knitwear (among other clothing), along with poor conditions for garment workers, means that not only do these synthetic-heavy sweaters feel worse, they’re engineered to have a shorter lifespan than the sweater Grandpa’s worn since the Nixon Administration.
The decline in quality points out one failure of the eclectic grandpa trend. But it’s a twofold issue. We are reaching a crisis point when it comes to personal style. As we all get our style inspiration from the same few sources, there is a deficit of singularity in fashion. With social media algorithms feeding us unrelenting fashion content, we’re poised to consume, consciously or not. Even those who aren’t actively participating in microtrends are still on the receiving end of content that affects purchasing habits, Madeleine Schulz wrote in Vogue Business. “Algorithms curate feeds to promote what’s selling fast and trending online, while social media shows users the product and brand content that aligns with their behaviors, interests and interactions.” So, even if social media users aren’t actively seeking out eclectic grandpa content, they may still be targeted with photos of celebrities (Tyler, the Creator, Kendall Jenner, Gigi Hadid, Emma Chamberlain, Natalia Dyer, and Charlie Heaton have all adopted this look) and feel inspired to incorporate the look into their own closets.
Perhaps a more sincere and authentic way to engage with the eclectic grandpa trend is through our shopping habits. Rather than rushing out to buy a polyamide-riddled sweater vest and a pair of cotton poplin boxers, we should emulate our forebears by interrogating what we desire in the longterm, and shell out for well-made garments that we actually intend to wear over the next several decades. What we can really learn from our elders isn’t how to produce a lower quality copy of their clothing, but how to cultivate personal style though well-loved pieces that will last a lifetime—hopefully, long enough to pass down to our own grandchildren one day.
