In fashion, time isn’t linear, it loops. A pair of Juicy Couture pants from 2006 might resurface in 2025, and “dead” trends like skinny jeans or Ugg boots are suddenly spotted on social media platforms again. The speed of online spaces has compressed decades of fashion trends into months. But on UCF’s campus, students are stopping the clock.
“I still wear high-rise jeans all the time,” said Anna Dziamalek, a senior health sciences major. “They’re comfortable and flattering. If something looks good on me, I don’t care if people say it’s out.”
The tight tension between the internet’s fast pace and one’s personal style defines the student wardrobe. Trends quickly die and rise from the ashes, in what feels like fast-forward fashion. Christian Perry, a self-taught designer and former UCF student, doesn’t buy into every cycle. “I don’t like to examine trends too closely,” he said. “I might style a piece differently depending on what’s in, but I’m not going to buy a whole new wardrobe just because TikTok says so. That gets expensive and inauthentic.”
For Perry, fashion is about individuality. He draws from different decades, experimenting with silhouettes and thrift finds instead of chasing every microtrend. “Finding your style takes inner work,” he explained. “It’s not about pleasing someone else. It’s about confidence and self-expression.”
Still, staying true to yourself can be a challenge sometimes. Nephele Tzouanopoulos, a junior marketing major, admits she has sometimes abandoned pieces she liked because of social cues. “I stopped wearing my Sambas for no reason,” she said. “They’ve just been sitting in my closet. Maybe I’ll take them out soon.” But her favorite “dead” piece, a pair of tabi shoes gifted by her boyfriend, stays in rotation. “I just love animal-inspired fashion,” she said. “Animals can never go out of style.”
For many students, fashion is a kind of time travel, a way to step into years they long to experience. Samara Dyal, vice president of UCF’s Fashion Society, still wears cottagecore pieces that peaked in 2020.
“Fashion cycles can feel wasteful, encouraging people to constantly buy new clothes and toss the ‘old’ ones,” she said.
Instead, she thrifts, upcycles and revamps outdated pieces into something new. Her six-year-old Juicy Couture pants, already vintage when she thrifted them, remain a staple.
“I’ll wear them until they literally fall apart,” she said.
Dyal noticed that UCF students often treat trends as ingredients rather than rules.
“We live in the digital age where trends overlap, die quickly or get revived instantly,” she said. “But students reflect creativity instead of conformity. When I worked with over 30 student designers, none of them copied mainstream trends. Each interpreted our theme uniquely. That shows we’re shaping the next wave of fashion, not just following it.”
Meanwhile, the pace of cycles has left others disillusioned. “It’s progressively getting worse,” said Tzouanopoulos. “The second you can afford to go out and buy, it’s dead and on to the next thing. We crave innovation, but instead companies just recycle past eras. There’s no innovation when it’s no longer about the art but about the money.”
That exhaustion from chasing the rapid pace is what keeps the “dead” trends alive. For some, they’re affordable, timeless pieces worth keeping. For others, they’re emotionally valuable, and for many, they’re simply practical.
“It shows that students are mixing individuality with trends,” said Dziamalek. “Even if something is labeled ‘dead,’ people still wear it if it feels authentic, comfortable or makes them feel confident.”
If fashion is a clock, then social media spins its hands quickly, pushing styles through a hot-or-not cycle that most people can’t keep up with. At UCF though, students aren’t interested in paying too much attention to the ticking clock. In thrifted Levi’s, cottagecore dresses and a pair of well-loved tabi shoes, students are proving that style, unlike trends, refuses to expire.
