For many years we lived in a world where beauty existed like an instruction. There was a norm and there was a mistake. There was “the right” skin, “the right” waist, “the right” age. Glossy magazines, television shows, later Instagram — all of them drew an image that didn’t just seem unattainable. It was constructed. Lit with the right lamp, edited by the retoucher’s hand, fixed in a pose no one actually lives in. We looked at that image and got used to thinking: this is how you’re supposed to look, behave, feel. And slowly a dangerous thought appeared — if I don’t fit in, something is wrong with me.
But that world started to break. First quietly. Then louder. People got tired of living inside images. Out of that exhaustion a movement was born, the one that is now becoming the main trend: sincerity. Not performed, not aggressive, not as a pose of “I’m so real, look at me”. But a quiet, steady return to oneself. This movement is no longer only about the aesthetics of appearance. It’s broader. It’s a change in how we allow ourselves to be, and how we allow each other to be. In a certain sense, sincerity has become the new language of social adulthood.
“Authenticity is when the external world stops being a stage and becomes a space to breathe,” says writer Glennon Doyle.
Ten years ago “to be beautiful” meant to meet a requirement. Today “to be beautiful” more and more often means to meet yourself. This shift feels gentle, almost intimate, but in fact it is political, economic and cultural. We no longer perceive retouched perfection as a standard. We perceive it as a product. And we understand very clearly the difference between a living person and a product.
How the beauty ideal became an ideology — and why it’s cracking
Ideals have always existed. In different eras they were different. In antiquity — mathematically calibrated symmetry. In the Baroque — the body as energy, fullness, strength. In the 20th century — smoothness, control, manageability of the female body. After World War II, the media created the image of the flawless homemaker woman: caring and properly refined. In the 1990s the world moved to the cult of thinness. In the 2000s — to the cult of gloss. In the 2010s — to the cult of youth forever, eternal youth, eternal “I’ve just come back from the Maldives”.
Now we’re seeing the end of that logic. For two reasons. The first reason is that it has exhausted itself morally. Filters, plastic surgery, staged photoshoots made the “ideal” not just unattainable, but non-living. At some point it stopped being attractive. We look and we don’t believe. It feels fake.
The second reason is that it has exhausted people physically and mentally. Constantly comparing yourself to retouched images creates a feeling of guilt for simply existing. And here something important begins: modern sincerity is not about devaluing beauty. It’s about taking away its power to punish. Sincerity says: I have the right to be myself, even if I don’t follow someone else’s instruction.
“Every generation had its own beauty ideal. But for the first time we are learning to see beauty not in the ideal, but in the person,” says culture researcher Oksana Kryvenko.
In short: we are stopping believing in templated perfection and, for the first time, seriously believing in ourselves.
Social media as a battlefield: filter versus reality
What’s interesting is that the very same system that made us dependent on comparison is now being used to free us from that dependence. Social media is no longer just a showcase. It’s become an instrument of position. And that’s exactly where the new generation is learning how to say out loud: I exist without a filter, and it’s not shameful.
Just a few years ago Instagram was pushing polished images. Today on TikTok and Reels we see another format — unretouched video, a morning face without makeup, clothes “as is”, tired eyes after a hard day. People record themselves not only in a moment of success, but also in a moment of breakdown. Public figures talk not only about victories, but also about panic attacks, therapy, burnout. And this is not perceived as weakness. On the contrary — as proof of honesty.
That changed the tone of the dialogue. Before, social media was a place of display. Now it’s more and more often becoming a place of presence. And that is very mature. To be, not to impress — that is always about inner strength.
“The internet that once forced us to hide is now teaching us to be ourselves,” says sociologist Julia Morgan.
This is how new aesthetics are born: not polished beauty, but honest beauty. Not “look how perfect I am”, but “look, I’m alive”. It’s a very subtle difference, but it completely changes the psychology of the audience. Because a living person doesn’t cause envy. A living person creates a feeling of connection.
Mental health as part of beauty
The generation that grew up in the culture of constant “you must look better” turned out to be the generation that openly says “I want to feel better”. This is where the real shift happened. The body stopped being only an object that has to be improved and became part of a state — a state of safety, stability, calm.
When we stop living in a constant attempt to match someone else’s ideal, anxiety levels drop. Self-blame decreases. There’s less shame about not being “like that”. Psychologists say directly: being honest with yourself is a factor of mental resilience. It doesn’t make a person weak, it makes them more resilient, because it takes energy away from the war against yourself.
Today more and more people are moving from the idea “I must love my body always” to the idea “I can accept my body even when it’s hard for me to love it”. This is a very tender and mature view. It doesn’t force you to smile. It allows you to exhale honestly. A new term psychologists often use is body neutrality. Not to worship. Not to hate. Just to accept it as a part of you that doesn’t define your whole worth as a person.
“We don’t have to love ourselves every day, but we can accept ourselves always,” says psychotherapist Laura Richards.
This shift in thinking matters not only individually. It matters culturally. Because a society that stops objectifying appearance becomes safer. Less aggression, less humiliation, less hate speech directed at the body. In simple terms, the ideal gives way to ethics.
2020 as a breaking point
The pandemic became a catalyst for honesty. When the world stopped, the stage sets disappeared. Office conferences were replaced with calls from the kitchen. Professional makeup was replaced with the state of “I just woke up”. People saw themselves and saw each other without the stage. Masks on our faces reminded us that the body is vulnerable. Fatigue became legal. Saying “this is hard for me” stopped being a social taboo.
That experience did not rewind. The return to the perfect image suddenly started to look empty. The world kind of said: we all went through this, we’re no longer interested in pretending we’re flawless. Sincerity turned from a private practice into a public norm.
After 2020 people look at “the image” differently. The priority is no longer flawlessness, but stability. Not “be better than everyone”, but “be at least okay with yourself”.
How brands are learning not to lie
Advertising used to be the machinery of desire. It created a sense of lack: here’s what you’re missing, here’s why you’re still not enough, here’s what you must fix. This model still exists, but it no longer sounds without consequences. The audience has learned to hear manipulation. And to refuse it.
From here comes a different kind of communication. Campaigns without retouching, real faces, different age groups, different body types, different stories. Dove Real Beauty became a starting point back when it still seemed risky. Then Aerie Real focused on bodies without Photoshop. Gucci Beauty and Zara started shooting people with strong individuality instead of a unified “beauty” with no details. This is not only about inclusion. This is about honesty as an economic resource.
For brands now, it’s more profitable to look honest than to look perfect. Honesty sells trust. And trust is a currency you can’t buy with a filter.
“Fashion always reflects the state of society. And today society needs truth, even if it’s imperfect,” says designer Stella McCartney.
And here another important detail appears. Before, “beauty” was theoretical — it lived somewhere out there, on the cover. Now it has become evidence-based. People want to see not an image, but a story. Not a façade, but a path. Not a character, but a person.
Sincerity and gender: not only about women
Sincerity was long seen as a women’s space — to figure out your boundaries, accept your body, allow yourself to be imperfect. But today this movement is going beyond women’s experience. In the male world there is also a visible break. The classic model “strong, silent, unbreakable” is giving way to another model — “strong and honest”.
Men speak publicly about exhaustion, depression, therapy, burnout. This matters not because “it’s hard for men too”, but because it destroys a generational program: “emotion = weakness”. A society where a man can say “I’m in pain right now” is safer for women, for children, and for him himself. This too is social maturity.
“Sincerity has no gender. It has courage,” says journalist James Clark.
In fact we’re watching how the idea of beauty stops being a women’s topic and becomes a human topic. Beauty is no longer tied to appearance. It’s tied to the quality of presence in life.
The aesthetics of honesty in everyday life: home, clothing, pace
Sincerity is no longer limited to how we look in photos. It’s entering interiors, clothing, the daily schedule. You can notice it even in the details.
At home: less showy decor, more air and tactility. Natural materials, warm shades, soft light. Space stops being a stage and becomes a place of restoration. The beauty of the home is not “look how stylish it is”, but “look, you can breathe here”.
In clothing: growing love for forms that don’t constrict. Loose cuts, soft silhouettes, fabrics that feel nice to touch. The color palette soothes instead of demanding attention. Clothing is no longer used as armor. It becomes an extension of the body.
In life pace: slow living appears. It’s not just the romantic idea of “living slower”. It’s the right not to burn out in constant chase. Rational care about sleep. About pauses. About boundaries. About not turning into a broken, squeezed-out version of yourself by evening.
“Sincerity is the new elegance. It doesn’t make noise, but it stays,” says designer Isabel Marant.
This matters: sincerity has become a synonym for safety. Psychological, emotional, physical safety. The safety of being yourself without fear of public judgment.
Sincerity as a society’s maturity
We often say “a new beauty trend” and we hear something light in that. But if you move marketing aside, you can see something more serious. We’re not only talking about beauty. We’re talking about the ethics of how people relate to each other.
A society becomes adult when it stops demanding masks. Adult relationships are when a person doesn’t have to prove all the time that they are “fine”. An adult information space is one where fatigue and vulnerability are not used against you. An adult culture is when different types of bodies, ages, faces are not just “tolerated”, but considered a normal way for the world to exist.
“We are not obliged to be strong every day. But we are obliged to be honest with ourselves,” reminds writer Elizabeth Gilbert.
In this sense sincerity has become the new social capital. Status used to be built on impression: the car, the bag, the body, the vacation. Now status is more and more built on the ability to be yourself. Not to hide what’s vulnerable. Not to perform. Not to betray yourself for the sake of the picture.
Being natural today is not “to neglect appearance”. It’s not about abandoning care and not about rejecting aesthetics. It’s about rejecting punishment. About refusing to live under someone else’s gaze. About the right to say: I am not a project that needs to be fixed. I am not a report. I am a process.
And what does that mean for each of us — practically
All of this sounds very beautiful, but how does it live day to day?
It means allowing yourself to look the way you look today, not the way you “should” look. It means not apologizing for being tired. It means acknowledging emotions instead of masking them with a fake smile. It means not squeezing yourself into a shape that’s more convenient for someone else.
It also means something deeper. To stop talking to yourself in the language of devaluation. To stop commenting in your head on every “imperfection”. Instead of “I look awful” — “I’m tired”. Instead of “something’s wrong with me” — “it’s hard for me right now”. This is not wordplay. This is switching the thinking model from self-destruction to self-support.
A healthy society doesn’t grow out of beautiful people. It grows out of people who don’t hate themselves.
An ending without an ending
The world is slowly moving from display to presence, from image to truth, from the demand to please to the right to be. And the further we go down this path, the clearer it becomes: sincerity is not the opposite of beauty. Sincerity is beauty. Just not external — living.
“Beauty is truth that is not afraid to be seen,” wrote Mary Oliver.
Maybe this is adulthood. Not flawlessness. Not control. Honesty. The right not to perform a role when you have no strength left. The right to look like you, not like a standard. The right to show your real face — and not lose dignity because of it.
In a certain sense we are all taking back something very simple: the ability to be a human being and not an image. And in that return there is a quiet, real, new beauty.
