The Gentrification of Girlhood... How Femininity Became an Expensive Aesthetic

In a world where everything can be commodified, it was only a matter of time before girlhood itself became a luxury product. Once defined by lived experience, friendship bracelets made at sleepovers, teenage awkwardness, and a coming-of-age shaped by culture and class, girlhood has been repackaged into a series of purchasable aesthetics, each one more expensive than the last. From the "clean girl" look of glazed skin and gold hoops to the hyper-feminine "coquette" aesthetic dripping in lace and Mary Janes, contemporary femininity is no longer a rite of passage but a financial commitment.

The Price of Femininity

What does it take to be a girl today? If social media is to be believed, girlhood is less about experience and more about curation. The "clean girl" archetype, championed by TikTok and Instagram, is effortlessly polished, sipping matcha in an athleisure set that somehow costs more than a monthly grocery shop. The "soft girl" is adorned in pastel knits, her skincare routine alone costing upwards of £200. Even the resurgence of early 2000s "bimbo" culture comes with a price tag: designer handbags, Botox at 21, and an endless cycle of beauty treatments. The message is clear. Girlhood is no longer something you grow into; it is something you buy.

This transformation has led to an increased reliance on influencers and brands as arbiters of femininity. Young women no longer simply adopt styles organically; they are targeted by algorithms that ensure their aspirations are shaped by high-cost beauty standards. As a result, femininity is no longer about self-expression but rather about meeting the demands of a constantly shifting aesthetic economy that profits from insecurity.

Social Media and the Monetisation of Identity

Platforms like TikTok and Pinterest have created an infinite scroll of girlhood aesthetics, each demanding its own set of products. Want to be a "that girl"? You will need a £40 Stanley cup, a £60 silk pillowcase, and an Olaplex routine. Going for "coquette"? You had better have vintage-inspired lingerie, Dior lip oil, and a romanticised life worthy of a Lana Del Rey music video. These aesthetics have become rigid templates rather than organic expressions of self, and their exclusivity is built into their price.

What is more insidious is how this consumer-driven femininity is framed as self-improvement. The rise of the "girl" subcultures, hot girl, clean girl, soft girl, sells the illusion that happiness, success, and desirability can be bought. Feminine identity, instead of being something personal and fluid, is now a branded product with limited access.

The Class, Race, and Gender Implications of Expensive Femininity

The gentrification of girlhood not only places a financial burden on those attempting to participate but also reinforces existing social hierarchies. The "clean girl" aesthetic, for example, is often praised when worn by white women, yet its elements—slicked-back buns, hoop earrings, glossy lips—have long been staples of Black and Latina beauty, previously dismissed as "ghetto" or "unprofessional." Now, rebranded through the lens of wealth and whiteness, these styles are aspirational.

Meanwhile, the affordability gap in feminine aesthetics grows wider. While working-class women may have always found ways to engage with trends, the rapid commercialisation of these aesthetics makes participation more difficult. When looking the part requires disposable income for Sephora hauls, niche perfumes, and £100 workout sets, femininity becomes a privilege rather than an identity.

Beyond class and race, the hyper-commercialisation of girlhood also marginalises those who do not fit traditional gender norms. Trans and non-binary individuals, who may already struggle with societal expectations of gender presentation, find themselves excluded from these rigid aesthetics unless they conform to a capitalist vision of femininity. The insistence that femininity be neatly packaged and sold further alienates those whose identities do not fit into such narrow parameters.

The Psychological Cost of the Aesthetic Economy

The gentrification of girlhood has done more than inflate the cost of femininity. It has also imposed new pressures. Young women are no longer just expected to grow into themselves naturally. They must constantly refine, upgrade, and reinvent. The rise of "that girl" culture, which promotes disciplined self-optimisation under the guise of self-care, turns femininity into an unpaid full-time job.

The irony is that while many of these aesthetics market themselves as effortless, they are anything but. The "clean girl" spends hours perfecting her no-makeup makeup look. The "soft girl" meticulously curates a wardrobe that appears casually vintage. Even the "lazy girl" trend, a recent attempt to push back against high-maintenance beauty, quickly became another polished aesthetic requiring the right kind of undone glamour.

This relentless pursuit of aesthetic perfection creates a cycle of dissatisfaction. When girlhood is treated as an aspirational lifestyle rather than an organic stage of development, young women are left constantly chasing an unattainable standard. The financial cost of this pursuit is high, but the emotional cost—self-doubt, body dysmorphia, and burnout—is even higher.

The Societal Consequences of the Gentrification of Girlhood

The commodification of girlhood has broader societal implications beyond individual financial and emotional burden. As girlhood becomes more inaccessible, it creates a generational divide in which those unable to afford participation feel excluded not only from aesthetic trends but from wider social belonging. The transformation of femininity into an elite identity further exacerbates class divides, reinforcing a society where access to womanhood is determined by wealth.

Moreover, the market-driven nature of femininity reshapes feminist discourse. Instead of challenging patriarchal structures, many mainstream feminist narratives now centre around the empowerment of purchasing power. Self-care, confidence, and independence are marketed as products, turning the struggle for gender equality into an individualised pursuit rather than a collective movement.

Reclaiming Girlhood Beyond Capitalism

So where does that leave us? If femininity is increasingly dictated by consumerism, is there space for an authentic girlhood beyond the aesthetic economy? The answer lies in resisting the pressure to monetise identity. This does not mean rejecting self-expression, but rather questioning why beauty and femininity have become synonymous with financial investment.

Real girlhood, the kind that cannot be filtered through an Instagram reel, is messy, awkward, and ultimately priceless. It is about friendships built on shared experiences rather than shared Amazon links. It is about moments of self-discovery that happen offline. And most importantly, it is about realising that being a woman, a girl, or anything in between does not require a shopping list.

If the cost of girlhood keeps rising, maybe it is time we stop buying into it altogether. Perhaps the most radical act of reclaiming girlhood is choosing to exist outside the pressures of consumerism, to define femininity on our own terms, and to reject the notion that identity can be bought rather than lived.