Introduction

In the past decade, ideals of beauty appeared to broaden – the body-positivity movement encouraged acceptance of diverse body types, and curvier or more athletic figures gained visibility. Recently, however, an opposing trend has taken hold. The ultra-thin or “skinny” aesthetic (reminiscent of the early 2000s “heroin chic” era) is re-emerging prominently in fashion, social media, and celebrity culture. Observers note that the once-celebrated inclusivity of the 2010s is waning as a cultural shift back to thinness unfolds . The following report examines how this “skinny” ideal has regained dominance, the influences driving it, and the reactions it has provoked.

Resurgence of the “Skinny” Aesthetic

After years of celebrating curves and body diversity, there are clear signs that thinness is “in” again. The American Society of Plastic Surgeons even dubbed the current trend the “ballet body” era – noting in its 2023 report that demand for slim, ballerina-like physiques (fueling liposuctions and breast reductions) is surging . According to the ASPS president, “there really has been almost a decade of ‘more curves are better’… And now it seems like we’re taking an abrupt turn to something a little bit more slim.” . This turn became especially evident around 2022, as style outlets began proclaiming that “thin is in” once more . For example, reality star Kim Kardashian – long associated with the curvy “slim-thick” look – made headlines by crash-dieting to fit into Marilyn Monroe’s dress for the May 2022 Met Gala. Her extreme transformation helped spark a “new cultural obsession with thinness” virtually overnight .

This resurgence goes hand-in-hand with Y2K fashion nostalgia. Early-2000s styles like low-rise jeans, micro-miniskirts, and exposed midriffs have returned, and they often demand a very slim figure. On TikTok, the hashtag #Y2KSkinny (a direct call-back to 2000s skinniness) has amassed millions of views, explicitly reviving the ultra-thin ideal that many millennials hoped had been left in the past . To those who remember the “heroin chic” era’s parade of size-zero starlets, this trend is “not nostalgic – it’s a flashing red warning sign.” Millennials who came of age in the 2000s have been vocal on social media, imploring Gen Z not to glamorize the “skinny at all costs” standard that wreaked havoc on their generation’s body image . In short, a combination of nostalgic fashion, influential figures, and shifting beauty narratives has brought the skinny aesthetic roaring back into mainstream prominence.

Fashion Industry Trends: Runways and Campaigns

A model walks the runway in Miu Miu’s viral micro-mini skirt set, a Y2K-inspired look that drew criticism for its extremely small sizing and midriff-baring style .

The high fashion industry has been a bellwether of this shift. After a period in the late 2010s that saw more plus-size and mid-size models on runways, luxury brands and magazines appear to be pivoting back to a size-0 ideal. A 2023 Vogue Business report sounded the alarm about a “worrying return to using extremely thin models” and a “plateau in size inclusivity efforts” across major fashion weeks . In other words, progress toward showcasing diverse body sizes has stalled. Insiders confirm that model line-ups are shrinking: “There’s been a decrease in [model] size across the board… A lot of models that used to be plus-size are now mid-size.” . Major design houses have revived the silhouettes of the early 2000s – think ultra-low waistlines and tiny crop tops – inherently favoring very slim bodies . The Y2K trend’s grip on fashion (exemplified by ubiquitous cut-outs and midriff-flaunting styles) is often blamed for “resurrecting the unattainable, super-slim body ideal of the era.” Designers that earned praise for inclusive casting a few seasons ago are now quietly dropping larger sizes in favor of uniformly thin models .

In fashion editorials and advertising, this “thin revival” is also evident. One striking example is Italian brand Miu Miu’s 2022 micro-miniskirt, which became a viral trend and was later named “Look of the Year.” While celebrated for its fun Y2K vibe, the micro-skirt (styled with a tiny cropped sweater) was widely criticized for promoting unhealthy body standards, as it was modeled almost exclusively on extremely thin frames . The garment’s sizing was so limited – a bandeau top from the same collection maxed out at a 38-inch bust (about a US size 12) – that it sent a clear message: Miu Miu “isn’t for every body type.” By honoring Miu Miu as 2022’s Brand of the Year, the industry essentially endorsed the return of a singular body ideal it presents . Even efforts to subvert the trend only underscored how radical size inclusion still is: plus-size model Lara Stone appeared on a magazine cover wearing the micro-skirt in a symbolic gesture of body positivity, yet this was seen as a notable exception rather than the norm . Overall, fashion’s current aesthetic is once again cinched, bare-midriffed, and unforgivingly slim, echoing the era of the turn-of-the-millennium supermodel.

Social Media and Viral “Skinny” Aesthetics

On social media platforms – especially TikTok – the thin ideal has gained viral momentum under various guises. The TikTok algorithm, in particular, has amplified a subculture often dubbed “SkinnyTok.” Content with the hashtag #SkinnyTok has accumulated a staggering 2.4 billion views, inundating young users’ feeds with weight-loss mantras and body-shrinking imagery . Much of this content harkens back to the pro-ana (pro-anorexia) communities of the early internet: extreme dieting “thinspo” (thin-inspiration) posts repackaged with aesthetic music and pastel graphics . For example, seemingly benign “What I Eat in a Day” vlogs or “body check” outfit videos are often edited to subtly glorify eating far below healthy calorie levels . In one trend, users share tiny “snack plates” and caption it as intuitive wellness, masking the reality of sub-1,000-calorie diets behind upbeat messaging . Some influencers on these platforms even express relief that they can openly desire thinness again – “Thank God I can finally say it, I want to be skinny,” one TikToker proclaimed, reflecting a sense that body-positive sentiment had “censored” such talk until now .

Platforms have attempted to moderate overt pro-eating-disorder content (for instance, TikTok banned the hashtag #skinnytok itself), but users easily evade these filters with slight spelling tweaks or alternate terms . Thus, the toxic messages persist under the radar. Experts warn that this constant stream of idealized thin bodies and diet tips is normalizing unhealthy behaviors and driving a spike in body anxiety among the young . Teens and even pre-teens scrolling TikTok are inundated with clips that equate thinness with beauty and success, fueling obsessive comparison and self-critique . Research backs this up: one study found that watching just 8 minutes of “thinspiration” content can significantly harm body image and self-esteem . Another analysis of TikTok diet videos found over half contained body-checking or other disordered eating cues disguised as fitness or wellness advice . In sum, the algorithm-driven virality of the skinny aesthetic online has created a feedback loop: as more users engage with these posts, they are shown even more extreme content, further entrenching the idea that thinner is always better . Social media’s “for you” pages have essentially become a 24/7 highlight reel of the skinny ideal – a development many critics find deeply alarming.

Celebrity and Influencer Body Trends

Hollywood’s size-zero comeback on display: A collage of stars at the 2025 Oscars appearing noticeably slimmed down (prompting online buzz about the weight-loss drug Ozempic) .

The renewed skinny ideal has been both reflected and propelled by celebrities and influencers. Nowhere is this more visible than in Hollywood, where several A-listers recently debuted strikingly slender physiques. At the 2025 Oscars, viewers couldn’t help but notice a “parade of noticeably slimmer celebrities” walking the red carpet . Stars like Ariana Grande, Demi Moore, Julianne Hough, Selena Gomez – even veteran entertainers Oprah Winfrey and Whoopi Goldberg – appeared dramatically trimmer, sparking a frenzy of speculation that many had turned to new weight-loss drugs like Ozempic to achieve these results . Social media commentary was blunt: “The biggest winner tonight at the Oscars is OBVIOUSLY Ozempic,” one user quipped, while others nicknamed the event “the Ozempic Awards” as meme-worthy observations about protruding clavicles and visible sternums went viral . In the weeks that followed, this Oscars moment became emblematic of Hollywood’s size-zero revival, with numerous outlets noting that “Hollywood’s size zero trend [has] returned.”

Multiple celebrities have openly or indirectly acknowledged these methods. Media mogul Oprah Winfrey, for instance, shared that she lost almost 50 pounds with the help of a semaglutide (Ozempic-class) drug, admitting she used to think being thin was about willpower but discovered “turns out, [thin people are] just not thinking about food all the time” . Actress Whoopi Goldberg has also spoken about using a prescription injectable (Mounjaro) after her weight neared 300 lbs . Meanwhile, other stars have kept quiet amid obvious transformations – fueling rumors that pharmaceuticals are the secret. This phenomenon is so widespread that in some circles the phrase “Ozempic chic” has emerged to describe the new Hollywood look (comparing it to the old “heroin chic”) .

Apart from drugs, deliberate image makeovers by trend-setting figures have influenced the cultural swing. The Kardashian-Jenner clan, often described as modern beauty barometers, provide a telling example. Kim Kardashian’s dramatic slimming (after years of celebrating her surgically enhanced curves) signaled to many that the “reign of the slim-thick influencer is over.” A viral analysis on YouTube even alleged that Kim and her sister Khloé had their famed Brazilian butt lift procedures reduced, dubbing their new look a “country club BBL” (a more subtle backside) . Whether or not that is true, the sisters’ visibly shrinking curves have been interpreted as the family pivoting away from the curvy aesthetic they once popularized. As one commentator noted, the Kardashians are like “canaries in the coal mine for modern-day beauty standards” – when they change their bodies, it foreshadows a broader trend . Sure enough, their slimming has coincided with a wider cultural embrace of a leaner look. Other influencers on Instagram and TikTok have followed suit, showcasing more angular, petite physiques and less of the previously trendy hourglass shape. Some have even explicitly endorsed the skinny ideal’s return. This stands in stark contrast to a few years ago, when many influencers were touting heavy weight-training, curvy glutes, and “strong not skinny” slogans. Today, the pendulum has clearly swung: thigh gaps and flat tummies are once again the coveted Instagram aesthetic. In fact, there is now backlash against the earlier “BBL era” – many who never felt represented by the exaggerated curves of the 2010s are relieved to see that trend wane . However, others who embraced the curvier standard feel whiplash and disappointment. As journalist Chloe Sih observed, “some women are happy to see the BBL trend end… [while] others are frustrated to see backs turn on [it], feeling it was more inclusive than the previously held standard of thinness.” In essence, celebrity and influencer culture has traded one exclusive ideal for another – and the ultra-slim look is firmly back on top.

Contrasts with Other Body Ideals (Curvy, Fit, Body-Positive)

The re-emergence of “skinny chic” becomes clearer when contrasted with the alternative body ideals that preceded it in recent years. During the 2010s, the body positivity and body neutrality movements pushed back against narrow beauty standards. Plus-size models like Ashley Graham, Paloma Elsesser, and Precious Lee graced magazine covers and runways, signaling that larger bodies could be fashionable and beautiful . Brands began extending their size ranges, and terms like “beach body” were critiqued in favor of “all bodies are beach bodies.” By the late 2010s, it seemed a new “body-positive era” had arrived . Around the same time, a different ideal gained popularity on social media: the “slim-thick” or “fit-thick” physique. This look – epitomized by celebrities like Beyoncé, Nicki Minaj, Jennifer Lopez, and notably the Kardashians – valued a combination of thin waist and flat stomach with fuller hips, thighs, and buttocks . The mantra “strong is the new skinny” circulated, promoting a fit, toned body over an emaciated one. Instagram fitness influencers and pop culture icons popularized sculpted hourglass figures, often achieved via weightlifting, diets, or cosmetic enhancements (e.g. the Brazilian butt lift surgery).

Each of these paradigms was framed as a rejection of the size-zero mandate of earlier decades. However, it’s important to note that they too imposed their own “trends” on women’s bodies. The curvy slim-thick trend, for example, still prized a very specific shape – one that required “curves in the right places” (an ample bust and backside) but little to no fat elsewhere . As one Vogue writer quipped, this standard meant “deposits of fat are welcome in bum cheeks; less so in the stomach” . Attaining it often demanded surgery (BBLs), strict gym regimens, or waist trainers, so it was hardly more “inclusive” in practice. Meanwhile, the body-positivity movement, though revolutionary in messaging, met resistance and was sometimes co-opted by brands as a marketing buzzword without meaningful change (for instance, token inclusion of a few plus-size models while overall norms stayed the same). Critics also point out that as soon as an alternative body type became “trendy,” it risked reinforcing the notion that bodies are fashions that go in or out. As one commentator put it, “One body type has to go out of fashion for another to come in; the huge boobs of the ’90s are replaced with the huge bums of the last decade” . Indeed, by the early 2020s, some in the industry cynically viewed the prior decade’s diversity push as a temporary “trend with an expiry date.”

Now, with the pendulum swinging back to a thin ideal, those comparisons are front and center. The dramatic weight-loss of formerly curvy stars (the Kardashians, Adele, etc.), and the fading visibility of plus-size figures in media, suggest to many that body positivity’s moment has passed . It raises uncomfortable questions: Was the celebration of bigger bodies only tolerated as long as it was trendy? Why must any body type replace another, rather than coexist? These discussions underscore a fundamental critique – reducing women’s bodies to interchangeable trends is harmful, no matter which physique is in vogue . The idealized body has changed shape over decades (hourglass to waifish to “slim-thick” and back to waifish), but what remains constant is that each era’s standard is highly unattainable for the average person and polices women’s appearances in new ways . In the current cycle, the ultra-lean look is ascendant again, and it is once more marginalizing those who don’t fit into a narrow mold – even those who may have felt validated during the curvy/fit trend now find themselves excluded. This whiplash effect reinforces that true body inclusivity is still a work in progress, and any gains can be fragile if cultural attitudes shift.

Public Health, Psychological, and Cultural Reactions

The revival of the skinny ideal has not come without pushback and concern. Health experts, psychologists, and many in the public have voiced alarm at what they see as a regression to harmful standards. Medical professionals point out that today’s twist – the availability of new weight-loss drugs like Ozempic (semaglutide) – could make the situation even more dangerous. “A cultural shift towards idolizing ‘ballet bodies’ coupled with this new category of weight-loss drugs is a dangerous combination,” one commentary warned . Doctors are already treating patients suffering serious side effects from misusing these medications in pursuit of quick weight loss . In short, the fear is that we are entering an era where women are once again “dying to be thin,” literally and figuratively .

Mental health specialists likewise report red flags. The National Eating Disorders Association (NEDA) has highlighted that nearly 9% of Americans (about 28.8 million people) will experience an eating disorder in their lifetime, with tens of thousands dying each year as a direct result . Surges in anorexia, especially among teens, often coincide with cultural fads that glorify thinness. Unfortunately, recent data are painting a grim picture: one review found a disturbing rise in teen eating disorders in the social-media era, linking it to the onslaught of unattainable beauty ideals online . Adolescent treatment centers have reported doubling of eating-disorder hospitalizations during the COVID-19 pandemic years, partly attributed to increased exposure to toxic body content as teens spent more time online . The content on “SkinnyTok,” in particular, is singled out by eating disorder counselors as “not just triggering – it’s dangerous.” For vulnerable individuals or those in recovery, seeing extreme calorie restriction and “thinspo” tips go viral can directly undermine their health. Clinics are warning that this trend “emphasizes appearance as a measure of worth and undermines years of progress in promoting body neutrality and acceptance.”

Culturally, many find the skinny revival deeply regressive. Feminist writers note that embracing such a narrow ideal again is a step backward after a decade that at least attempted to broaden definitions of beauty. Some tie it to broader social currents: as one author observed, “as everything gets more conservative, it’s no wonder people feel more comfortable openly sharing fatphobic views.” Indeed, the thin trend’s comeback has coincided with reactionary shifts in politics and culture (for example, the overturning of Roe v. Wade in the U.S. was mentioned in one analysis as part of a wider “rightward tilt” affecting even beauty norms ). The “Tradwife” subculture (promoting traditional gender roles) and a nostalgia for earlier eras often idealize a slender, feminine body as part of their aesthetic, which dovetails with the current vibe shift . Commentators also point out that weight stigma and misogynistic beauty expectations never truly disappeared – they merely went somewhat out of fashion and are now roaring back under new labels. Public figures like singer Lizzo and actress/activist Jameela Jamil have been outspoken in criticism of the skinny trend’s return . They urge fans to resist conflating thinness with health or worth, and to prioritize mental health over chasing a transient look . Jamil, for example, regularly uses her platform to decry diet culture fads, and after Paris Fashion Week 2023 she blasted designers for “bringing back 1990s body standards” and warned young women not to starve themselves to meet those expectations. This kind of cultural critique echoes the pushback in the 1990s and 2000s, when magazines and even the U.S. president condemned “heroin chic” imagery for glamorizing sickness . There is a sense of “haven’t we learned this lesson already?” among critics who remember the fallout last time – from models’ deaths to generations of women battling eating disorders.

On the other hand, proponents or apologists of the trend often frame it as a matter of “personal choice” or even “wellness.” They argue that the pendulum of fashion is always turning, and that wanting to lose weight or appear slim shouldn’t be demonized. However, health experts counter that the warning signs are clear: “bodies should not be fashion trends,” one professor bluntly stated, noting that for 50+ years each swinging body fad has compelled women to pursue extreme measures – be it dieting, purging, or surgery – to mold themselves to the moment’s ideal . Rather than simply a harmless style preference, these body ideals directly influence behaviors and self-esteem. The current craze is no exception, and the stakes may be higher given the potent tools (drugs, social media algorithms) now in play. Psychologists emphasize the importance of media literacy and resilience: they encourage young people to recognize that Instagram and TikTok present a distorted mirror, one that can trap viewers in “a funhouse mirror of body dysmorphia” if they’re not careful . Some also point out that social media, while a big part of the problem, can be part of the solution – it has enabled counter-movements (like body-neutral influencers, anti-diet communities, etc.) to speak out and provide alternative content . Nevertheless, the overall public health message from professionals is one of caution. Many are calling for renewed efforts in media education, supportive interventions, and promoting diverse representation to counteract the glorification of a single, ultra-thin body type. The hope is to avoid repeating history’s mistakes and prevent a new wave of body image issues among today’s youth.

Conclusion

The resurgence of the “skinny” body ideal in contemporary fashion, media, and culture illustrates how quickly beauty standards can cycle – and how much influence they wield. In just a few years, the pendulum swung from an era of relative inclusivity back to one that prizes extreme thinness. This shift is visible everywhere: from high-fashion runways and brand campaigns featuring size-0 models, to TikTok feeds flooded with “thinspiration,” to celebrities suddenly shrinking and touting new weight-loss methods. While some celebrate a return to a look they find aspirational, many observers are deeply concerned. They argue that declaring one physique as “trendy” inevitably makes others “outdated,” undermining the progress made toward body acceptance. Indeed, the cultural whiplash of trading one unattainable ideal for another has real consequences – especially on mental and physical health.

Ultimately, the “skinny” ideal’s renewed dominance has prompted a valuable conversation: What if bodies didn’t need to be trends at all? Health experts and advocates urge that we learn from the past and resist falling into the same trap of chasing an ever-shifting, narrow standard . As one eating-disorder specialist noted, “the cultural conversation around beauty standards must shift towards embracing a more inclusive view of appearance and health.” This means recognizing beauty in a variety of shapes and sizes and decoupling self-worth from the scale or dress size. While the current “skinny chic” wave demonstrates the enduring allure of thinness in our society, the growing pushback against it also shows a heightened awareness of its dangers. In the tug-of-war between repeating old patterns and forging a more accepting future, many are hopeful that this time, armed with hard-earned knowledge, we can break the cycle of body trends and let authentic well-being take priority over fitting an ideal.

Sources: The Guardian ; Dazed ; The Tribune (Express) ; Relevant Magazine ; Newsweek ; Vogue ; Orri (Eating Disorder Clinic) ; Lexington Line ; National Eating Disorders Association via Relevant .