Hi hi,

Greetings from Australia, where I’m currently juggling some client work and prepping for a speaking engagement. But honestly, my mind keeps wandering back to this recent project I wrapped up on AI and Retail—an exploration that’s left me both fascinated and a little uneasy. I’ve been thinking a lot about how AI, TikTok, and fashion are colliding in ways that feel both revolutionary and deeply unsettling.

It’s a story about more than just clothes; it’s about algorithms, influencer culture, and the dizzying speed of trends that have become "normal." Since you’re always the first to get my best insights, I thought I’d pull back the curtain and share some of my notes with you—because these shifts aren’t just changing what we buy; they’re shaping how we see ourselves in ways we’re only beginning to understand.

The Rise of Ultra-Fast Fashion

In March, French legislators made a bold move against fast fashion, passing a bill that targets the industry’s worst offenders with financial penalties by 2030 and a proposed ban on their advertising. It feels like a last-ditch effort to slow down the runaway train of ultra-fast fashion—these AI-driven, environmental nightmares that churn out cheap, disposable clothing faster than we can make space in our closets.

Fast fashion isn’t exactly new. Brands like Zara, H&M, and Forever21 have been reshaping the way we shop for decades, turning clothes into commodities with a relentless parade of new items. Zara was the first to break away from the traditional fashion calendar, dropping fresh collections every few weeks—soon, it was a race to see who could get the latest trends on shelves the fastest. But then came the next wave: ultra-fast fashion retailers like ASOS, Boohoo, and Fashion Nova, who took that model online, supercharging it with social media and influencer buzz, and ditching the need for physical stores altogether.

But it was AI that changed the game entirely. Now, we’re living in the era of “Real Time Retail,” where companies like Shein and Temu have built empires by using algorithms to predict exactly what we’ll buy next. They can turn a concept into a product in days, moving as fast as a viral TikTok trend. And it’s not just about speed. In 2023, Shein faced a lawsuit alleging it uses a “secret algorithm” to manipulate what we see—faking reviews, inflating ratings, and replicating popular designs in ways that leave independent designers scrambling to keep up.

The numbers are dizzying. Shein’s revenue jumped from $22.7 billion in 2022 to $32.5 billion just a year later. Temu, which launched in 2022, raked in $14 billion in its first year and is projected to hit $50 billion by 2025.

Shein alone puts out between 500 and 2,000 new pieces daily, keeping a staggering inventory of over 600,000 items that ship to more than 150 countries. It’s a pace that feels impossible to comprehend, let alone keep up with.

And it’s not just the clothes—it’s the culture. Platforms like TikTok are breeding grounds for fashion micro-trends: Cottagecore, Clean Girl, Coquette, and Coastal Grandma, just to name a few. These aesthetics flare up and burn out so quickly that keeping up feels like a full-time job. Influencers fuel this cycle with endless “haul” videos, normalizing the idea of buying in bulk, buying often, buying just to keep pace. We’re constantly conditioned into believing that if we’re not buying, we’re somehow missing out on being a part of something.

But the hidden costs are enormous. These clothes are often poorly made, designed to last just long enough to outlive the trend before they end up in a landfill. The fashion industry is a major polluter, releasing toxic chemicals and micro-plastics into the environment, and the low prices we enjoy are often subsidized by exploitative labor practices. Reports of factory workers enduring brutal hours for pennies have become disturbingly common. Recently, authorities in Seoul found dangerously high levels of toxic chemicals in some items from Shein and Temu, underscoring the risks that come with cutting corners.

It’s a race to the bottom that’s dragging everyone along with it. Even Amazon has announced plans for a discount marketplace where suppliers from Shein and Temu can sell directly, amplifying the competition and the volume of cheap, disposable goods flooding our lives. It’s not just about shopping anymore—it’s a broader shift that’s redefining our values, with an increasingly bleak outlook as the cycle continues unchecked.

The Algorithmic Push Toward Consumption

It’s impossible to escape the influence of algorithms—they’re not just showing us what to buy; they’re shaping how we see ourselves. The hyper-personalized trends that flood our feeds are no accident. They’re carefully curated, appearing just often enough to convince us that we need them. The more we see these items, the more it feels like everyone else already has them, and if we don’t join in, we’re somehow falling behind. It’s a subtle but powerful trick, blurring the line between what’s popular and what’s simply pushed into our line of sight.

Retailers have turned this into an art form. They’re not just tracking our clicks and scrolls; they’re anticipating our desires, merging our online habits with physical consumption in a seamless loop. Platforms like TikTok and Amazon have perfected this low-friction experience, where a single swipe or click can put the next must-have item in our hands by tomorrow. The expectation of instant gratification is so deeply ingrained that waiting even a week feels like an eternity, especially when trends shift by the day.

This constant speed doesn’t just affect what we buy; it’s changing how we think about who we are. Our identities are in a state of perpetual reinvention, cycling through aesthetics as fast as they appear on our screens—one day you’re a Clean Girl, the next, you’re embracing Mermaid-core. It’s exhausting, but it’s become the norm. Our sense of self feels increasingly tied to what’s new, what’s next, and how quickly we can adapt.

One of my favorite creators, Heidi Becker, brilliantly captures the insanity of this narrative through her satirical take on upcoming trends:

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And it’s not just shopping that’s been transformed—it’s our social lives, too. We’re increasingly swapping real-world connections for the quick hits of scrolling and buying. As Olga Khazan pointed out in The Atlantic, it’s not that Americans don’t have friends; it’s that we’re struggling to meet up in real life. Instead, we’re tied to our screens, consuming content and products from the comfort of our homes. It’s a kind of disconnection that’s hidden by the busyness of keeping up with everything digital.

The backdrop to all of this feels impossible to ignore. The pandemic turned shopping into a coping mechanism—an attempt to regain some control when everything else felt out of hand. Scrolling through viral products and snapping up the latest trends became a way to disconnect from the anxiety of the times. We convinced ourselves that the next purchase might be the one that makes us feel better, even if the comfort was fleeting.

The True Cost of Convenience and Instant Gratification

But the thrill fades, and we’re left with the aftermath—closets full of clothes that no longer feel exciting, and a creeping sense of emptiness that no amount of shopping can fill. Scandals like Dior’s $57 handbag, where a luxury item’s production costs were revealed to be shockingly low compared to its price tag, erode our trust in what we buy. It’s a reminder that behind every purchase, there’s often a hidden story of inflated costs and questionable practices. And while it’s easy to be lured by the cheaper, faster alternative, this mindset pushes us toward a disposable culture where convenience reigns supreme.

The real challenge isn’t just choosing between fast fashion and luxury—it’s about finding a balance and understanding the true cost of what we consume. I’ve struggled myself, wondering why it’s worth spending $36 on an ethically made t-shirt instead of $10 on a mass-produced one. But this is where data and algorithms could actually be a force for good, providing transparency, educating us on the real costs, and helping us make more mindful choices. Imagine if these systems showed us not just what’s trending but why paying a bit more for responsibly made products matters.

We’re at a crossroads, where our consumption habits mirror the algorithms that drive us, which influence our consumption, which influence the algorithm in an infinite loop. Breaking free means slowing down, questioning the endless pursuit of the next new thing, and reconsidering how we spend our money—and our attention. It’s about shifting from mindless scrolling to mindful engagement, from chasing quick fixes to valuing what truly sustains us.

At some point, we’ll have to decide: are we buying into a fleeting moment, or are we investing in a future that aligns with our values? It’s a reckoning that feels increasingly urgent, and the answer might just shape the world we leave behind.

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Further reading:

• ​How Brands Use Gen-AI in Fashion to Design Their Collections. ​
• ​Temu Targeting Trademarked Brands ​
• ​Insight into Shein's AI Strategy ​
• ​The Rapid Rise of Shein and Temu ​

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