The Unlikely Rise Of ‘Grandmacore’ In A Culture Obsessed With Looking Young

It was a classic work-from-café Wednesday, and I was catching up on my trend reading for the week when an article caught my eye, singling out Hailey Bieber’s “granny” pumps as one of this season’s must-have shoes. Just as I clicked on the link for details, a server brought over my matcha latte, and like clockwork, I found myself refusing the straw. I wish I could claim this was a positive step for the environment, but sadly, it’s a consequence of the modern anti-aging movement. 

A few years ago, I saw a TikTok video that linked sipping from straws to the formation of wrinkles. Apparently, the puckering causes repeated folding of the skin around your mouth, which eventually leads to “straw lines.” I never double-checked with an expert, but that not-so-fun theory became my Roman Empire, and straws, my enemy. 

Turning back to my screen, Bieber’s so-called granny pumps stood out, and I instantly grimaced at the polarity. There I was at 27, trying my damnedest to hold on to my youth and not age a day too soon, all while fashion romanticized wearing your grandma’s shoes. The juxtaposition was uncanny. Bieber, often celebrated for her glass skin, was being touted as the flagbearer of the granny shoe fad. This is hardly a singular example; the 2020s are rich with aesthetics that glorify your grandparents' lifestyle. 

There’s the Coastal Grandmother who wears cashmere sweaters and linen trousers, sips on wine, and shops exclusively at the farmer’s market. On the other side of the Atlantic, you have the Frazzled English Woman as embodied by an aging Bridget Jones; picture disheveled hair, mismatched bed linen, and chunky scarves. Mind you, these trends aren’t limited to female role models. TikTok also adores the Eclectic Grandpa, characterized by argyle cardigans, high-waisted trousers, and irreverent lumberjack loafers. 

Over the years, these mood boards have appeared on Emma Chamberlain, Sabrina Carpenter, Bella Hadid, and Harry Styles, and have been swiftly adopted by creators online, further normalizing dressing like your grandparents. Funny enough, as style leans on our elders for inspiration, beauty continues to move further away, branding youth as the most covetable asset. Clinically, peptides, exosomes, and salmon DNA are labeled as the new frontier of regenerative skincare. 

At home, skincare enthusiasts continue to DIY longevity with mouth tapes, red light masks, and extensive Morning Shed routines. “The anti-aging content is hard to avoid,” says London-based Kanika Kochhar, 29. “I recently had a meltdown about how I think I’m past my physical prime, and it’s only downhill from here. I find myself being more nervous about growing older, like I’m running out of time.” 

This pressure is widespread: a 2025 survey by Talker Research found that 39% of Gen Z's biggest fear of aging is wrinkles and hair loss. The anxiety is also pushing more young people to the doctor’s office. “I’m now seeing patients in their early 20s seeking out aesthetic treatments, which was not nearly as common before,” shares Dr. Moustafa Mourad, a facial plastic surgeon. “Botox is by far the most common entry point for younger patients. They are coming in because they don’t want to look aged in the future.” While so-called preventative Botox — using small doses early to limit wrinkle formation — is debated among injectors, with some questioning its necessity, Dr. Mourad believes its rise among his younger patients is driven more by anticipation than correction.

I can see this shift take place in real time. Growing up, I was a strong believer that “age is just a number,” but now and then, I find myself casually browsing these aesthetic treatments, wondering what if. Part of it can be credited to information overload — my algorithm constantly reminds me that the moment I turned 25, the amount of collagen that my body produces began to decline. For me, it frames every birthday as a ticking time bomb.

Dr. Ahmed El Muntasar, an aesthetics doctor, has also witnessed a surge in younger patients driven by a similar awareness. “People are particularly focused on what we call collagen banking, so collagen-stimulating injectables such as Sculptra and Ellansé are very popular,” he says. The more you shine a light on the booming longevity movement, the more glaring its parallel fashion and lifestyle trends become. With catchy names, they glorify wearing your grandmother’s wardrobe just as beauty demands that you stay frozen at 25.

Rachel Stone, a 26-year-old from San Francisco, is an avid consumer of both these polarizing conversations. On the one hand, in January, she got 15 units of Botox to prevent any future forehead lines from sinking in. On the other hand, she describes her style as Diane Keaton–chic. “I definitely see the irony; it’s like telling Diane, ‘I want to look like you, but only the parts that were glamorous and romantic,’” she says. “But it really is a sign of the times,” she adds. “I see the hate that Sarah Jessica Parker gets, and these reactions seriously put you off growing older — or at least looking older.”

Stone is referring to the backlash that Parker received while filming And Just Like That. Viewers relentlessly critiqued her appearance, pointing out her wrinkles and how different she looked from the original Sex and the City. (I hate to state the obvious, but it has been 28 years since the first TV show was released. What did people expect?) The actor eventually said, “I know what I look like. I have no choice. What am I going to do about it? Stop aging? Disappear?” A similar critical refrain looms over most female celebrities over 40. Charlize Theron, Jennifer Lopez, and Jennifer Aniston are either showered with compliments for looking younger or torn down by accusations of facelifts and cosmetic treatments; there’s really no winning. 

Consciously or not, these conversations in popular culture trickle into how we perceive growing older, pushing us to resist any signs of aging for as long as possible. Against this backdrop, it may appear oddly liberating that fashion is going against the grain to embrace older aesthetics, but the truth seems to be quite the contrary. Nina Garcia, a 24-year-old writer from Los Angeles, owns “granny” pumps herself and says, “Wearing old wedges in your 20s isn’t accepting aging, it’s almost a way to show off just how young you are. It’s like saying, ‘Look at me, I can wear anything and pull it off. When I wear them, it doesn’t say I’m frazzled; it looks cool.’” 

In truth, fashion has long relied on disparity as a tool to emphasize and uphold conventional beauty standards. Back in the 1800s, women wore whalebone hoops under their dresses to draw a comparative scale. The XL width of the bell-shaped skirt only exaggerated how petite and cinched the wearer’s waist was. Similarly, today's mood boards idealize grandmacore just as long as it is styled on youthful bodies. The fuzzy socks, oversized sweaters, and mismatched scarves all highlight how young the new wearer is, and how different these pieces look on a 20-something-year-old compared with an octogenarian. 

Often, when these items are sold to us, they are promoted under the guise of acceptance and comfort. The messaging behind Coastal Grandma and Eclectic Grandpa says you don’t have to wear latex or restrictive silhouettes; you can be you and still be fashionable.

“People are connecting with big sweaters because there is an admiration for the lessons you learn as you age,” says beauty writer Jessica DeFino. “You realize that style can be comfortable. But this exists alongside a deep fear of what aging looks like on the body.” She adds, “The truth is, you can’t get one without the other. The more time and energy we spend on the project of anti-aging, the fewer life lessons we have on our own.” 

Grandmacore had the opportunity to soften us to the idea of aging. The aesthetic leans into handmade blankets, soft clothing, and warmth that evoke ideas of care and coziness. It could have presented experience and patience as meaningful and even aspirational, reframing growing older as gaining depth over losing youth. However, in its present context, the trend suggests that symbols of old age are only romantic when they can be worn and taken off as external layers. 

Similar to other trends like coquette, balletcore, and Y2K, grandmacore frames being older as a material aesthetic, a fad that’s in today and could be out tomorrow. This fits right in with how we approach aging in beauty culture, as if it's just another aesthetic that we can control if we’re relentless. “Aging is no longer something that people feel they have to accept passively, says Dr. Mourad. “There’s this idea that you can age on your own terms, and for many patients, that means slowing things down or preserving a certain look.”

Wearing granny pumps and nonna scarves like some celebrities may seem whimsical and la-di-da, but I'm learning that the eccentricity in my style is only a superficial change. There's no point in choosing comfortable shoes as a statement against restrictive style only to spend hours looking at possible Botox treatments. There's no point in wearing fuzzy sweaters only to hold myself back from sipping on straws or lying on the beach for fear of my skin aging. To me, grandmacore only creates the illusion of a more accepting life; actually living that life is a whole other ball game.