How Taste Became Fashion Currency
Taste beyond the algorithm and the new hierarchy
Hot Takes are my bullet point thoughts on fashion's hottest issues. These posts get to the heart of why people are talking about what they’re talking about, what this means, and where this could go next.
Let’s set the scene.
Once upon a time, money and labels ruled fashion. If you had a fat wallet and an appetite for designer logos, you were stylish. But somewhere between the rise of social media, the fall of gatekept luxury, and the explosion of personal branding, something changed. Taste — once an intangible, elusive quality — became the ultimate fashion currency.Â
Taste used to be handed down to us, filtered through a handful of cultural gatekeepers who decided what was tasteful and what was out of touch. And yet, taste has always been a slippery, subjective thing. The days of dictated tastefulness are fading, replaced by something far more interesting: a world where individuality reigns and taste is as personal as a fingerprint.Â
But taste isn’t some frivolous indulgence reserved for the middle class; it shapes the way we live. Pierre Bourdieu, a 20th-century French sociologist, turned the idea of personal taste on its head in his 1979 book Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. He argued that taste isn’t some whimsical, individual preference but a tool — one that signals social class and fuels an ongoing game of status and competition. Â
Nowhere is this high-stakes game more evident than in fashion. Entire industries rise and fall on the ever-shifting sands of taste, but fashion, more than any other, thrives on its unspoken rules.
We’re in the throes of the taste economy. When thinking about fashion, this concept underscores the shift from mass to niche, challenging us to go beyond the algorithm and reject the commodification of taste. The fashion pendulum is swinging; whether in good or bad taste is up for debate.
Touch Grass, Find Taste
Social media has created a hyper-visible arena where taste is performed, dissected, and rewarded in real time. We all know algorithms run the show these days, quietly shaping our choices like an invisible puppet master. Every click, search and scroll pushes us toward a pre-approved selection of what’s tasteful — mostly from brands that paid for the privilege of being discovered.
The result? A world where taste is predictable, performative and boring.
We used to pride ourselves on spotting something that spoke to us even if we couldn’t quite explain why. Now, the idea of being drawn to something in this way feels absurd. Thankfully, sanctuaries where individuality thrives, untouched by algorithms and unbothered by trends, still exist. You just have to step away from the screen and touch grass to find them.
In the past, taste was dictated from the top down. But today’s fashion landscape is more democratic. A well-curated thrift store find can have more cultural weight than a brand-new designer bag, and an unexpected styling choice can generate more engagement than an entire runway collection. The power no longer lies solely with a select few.
Bad Taste vs. Good Taste: Who Decides?
Fashion insiders and outsiders alike now participate in an economy where aesthetic fluency determines the criteria of taste. The tastemakers of today aren’t just celebrities or editors but TikTok creators, archive collectors, and subculture enthusiasts who understand the alchemy of a well-executed outfit.
But with the rise of taste as currency comes the inevitable question: who gets to define what’s in good taste? And does bad taste even exist anymore?
Good taste has long been tied to traditional notions of elegance and exclusivity. Think: old-money minimalism and quiet luxury. On the flip side, bad taste has historically been linked with excess and kitsch. However, in today’s fashion ecosystem, what was once considered bad taste (think Crocs, gaudy logomania, or ‘90s mall goth aesthetics) has been rebranded as cool.
Taste has become a game of subversion. A rhinestone-bedazzled Juicy Couture tracksuit (which I have in my wardrobe, in purple, in case you were wondering), once a relic of tabloid-era cringe, is now a nostalgic statement. The line between good and bad taste is constantly shifting, and the true arbiters of fashion are those who can navigate this fluidity with confidence.
My two cents.
Taste isn’t just about picking the right things. It’s a sort of aesthetic IQ, capable of stitching together seemingly unrelated experiences into something that feels, well, right. It can’t be bought, borrowed, or force-fed. It’s something deeper, born from an innate appreciation and understanding of the world around us. Â
Taste has long been framed as a set of rules, an objective standard we need to reach. But in reality, it’s nothing more than a patchwork of personal preferences, subconscious desires, and cultural conditioning masquerading as universal truth. What we’re witnessing now is a shift in how we approach it. The old hierarchy of taste is crumbling.Â
As we move forward, fashion’s taste economy will only become more nuanced. The next generation of style leaders will be remixing, recontextualizing, and challenging the very idea of what’s desirable. Algorithms may try to predict the next big thing, but true taste remains entirely unpredictable.
And the idea of a universal good or bad taste? That’s as outdated as the concept of a one-size-fits-all wardrobe. We’re not all the same, and neither should our taste be.
Taste is what sets people apart. The ability to make the ordinary extraordinary, to mix the high with the low, to wear something in a way that sparks conversation, that’s the new currency of fashion. And the best part? You’ve got to find it on your own.
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