Everywhere I look, the word “timeless” is being thrown around. Timeless engagement ring, timeless coat, timeless dress—timeless, timeless, timeless. But what does “timeless” truly mean?

To the fashion girls of TikTok, it is some combination of “quiet luxury” mixed with a cocktail of nostalgic fashions that allegedly lack specificity. The goal is to blend into any era, to wear clothes that aren’t warped by trends and fashion faux pas. Influencers on the app boast about where to shop for “timeless” items, but, shockingly the stores they name include Zara, H&M, and ASOS. No dig on those brands, but they are quite literally fast fashion labels that cater specifically to the trend cycle. If everyone wants “timeless” style, to the point where timelessness itself has a specific aesthetic that fast fashion has picked up on…I hate to break it to you, but timeless is about to get dated.

TikTok is a beast, spinning up micro trends at an alarming rate only to discard them even quicker. It’s very clear that the masses searching for “timeless” anything are sick of chasing this endless cycle.

As soon as fashion is touched in this new age, it is deemed “out.” This is how Carolyn Bassette’s fashion went from feeling timeless on her and like cosplay on anyone trying to recreate it now.

Fashion is and always has been a reflection of the times. In the early 2000s, no one thought that their style choices were “timeless.” They were just letting culture, politics, and lifestyle shape their look in the most natural way possible. If there’s one thing to point out here, it’s that the current taste-making generation doesn’t want to experience fashion moments that feel current. From the resurgence of Y2K, to cottage core, mob wives, and “timeless” quiet luxury, the direct visual access to the past seems to be more alluring than existing in the present. I get that. The now is rough. Maybe we don’t want to look like now because everything going on (except for the Knicks incredible, life-affirming win last night) feels embarrassing.

And there’s no fashion space where this is more apparent than in wedding discourse. I don’t have a fiancé (or boyfriend, for that matter) yet, but I do have a Pinterest board, with 347 items pinned, for my Spring 2028 Charleston wedding. Scrolling through TikTok, I see brides getting hit with strays every few videos. Specifically, the “calla lillies as your wedding bouquet look like green onions” discourse and the chartreuse and burgundy color combo debate (see below for reference).

The enduring argument is that these popular trends will “date” your wedding, making it incapable of being timeless. But, again, why is that the goal? Have we convinced ourselves that the life we’re living isn’t nearly as interesting if it can’t be dropped into any year? We seem to have collectively decided that owning this current era of fashion feels painfully compromising.

But, that fear shouldn’t shape our choices. A kid 30 years from now might look back at 2026 and see Olivia Rodrigo’s tweed skirts and polka dot dresses or Dua Lipa’s summer florals and cool-toned sheer outfits as timeless, because to them, these looks have bloomed, settled in, and become something worth mood boarding, something worth holding onto. They might look back and realize a lot of our choices are cyclical with a dash of modernity that can only happen because we’re wearing clothes made right now.

There’s a thrill to scoring an incredible vintage piece that fits your personal style. There’s joy in looking to the past for inspiration on what to wear now. I’m not arguing against any of those things. But timelessness cannot be captured in the bite-size way the internet wants it to be. It also cannot be decided in present tense. We can scour through older fashion and agree that something is timeless. But there’s no way to undoubtably confirm that the clothes you’re wearing right now will be timeless to people in the future. Especially when the focus is solely on reminiscing and recreating, instead of standing in the now and living.