Pinterest hasn’t just predicted the future—it’s printed it. Literally. This year’s Pinterest Predicts has been reborn as a physical zine created with i-D, stitched together from decades of archive imagery, sharp editor brains, and contributions from artist Corbin Shaw and fashion designer Lucila Safdie. Copies are being hand-delivered around Shoreditch like secret style relics from the year ahead. If you spot someone holding one, chase them. Futures like this don’t just sit around waiting.
Inside the zine, the trends shaping 2026 feel less like forecasts and more like confessions. What people search for—obsessively, quietly, repeatedly—says more about where style is going than any runway. And right now, those searches are romantic, nocturnal, maximal, mythic, and deeply personal. Minimalism? Dead. Or at least on life support. The rise of Funhaus says everything: people are done pretending adulthood means beige.
After a decade of “optimising” themselves into numbness, they want circus stripes, dopamine paint, and interiors that look like the inside of their unfiltered brains. Bright colours as therapy. Playtime as survival.
Then there’s the poetic turn—not just because everyone suddenly got into literature, but because dressing like you might have is enough. Poetcore is the performance of thought: capes, satchels, soft tailoring, an expression that suggests you’re carrying around at least three unsent letters. In the zine it’s framed perfectly: your look is a verse, your life a line break. It’s sincerity disguised as style or style disguised as sincerity… No one can tell anymore, LOL.
Beauty, meanwhile, has gone delightfully feral. Vamp Romantic drags us back into the shadows with coffin nails, smudged eyeliner and glamour that broods rather than beams. The clean-girl era is over; she’s gone full gothic and looks incredible. Darkness has become the new luxury. Mystery the new glow. Then, just as things get moody, the softest trend emerges: a pen-pal renaissance.
People are writing letters again—real ones, folded, stamped, held. In the zine, it’s positioned not as nostalgia but as rebellion. When everything digital is instant and disposable, permanence becomes radical. A letter isn’t communication; it’s devotion. Glamoratti, on the other hand, embraces full spectacle. Quiet luxury mutates into its louder, flashbulb-loving younger sibling. Think chunky belts, oversized suits, the return of ’80s wealth codes—not to blend in but to be aggressively visible. If everyone is paparazzi now, you might as well dress for the lens.
Scent Stacking deepens the search for individuality. No one wants a signature scent anymore; they want a signature chemistry experiment. Layering perfumes becomes identity work. Selfhood in the form of vapour.
And when the city becomes exhausting, people flee into the Mystic Outlands for the cliffs, ruins, fog, remote landscapes, anything untouched by algorithms. It’s not escapism; it’s recalibration. A spiritual hard-reset via moss and myth.
Finally comes Glitchy Glam, perhaps the most honest trend of them all: asymmetry, mistakes, messy makeup, faces that look better when they stop trying to be perfect. Imperfection becomes the aesthetic. A Rorschach test you wear.
Taken together, the zine paints 2026 as a year where people stop apologising for wanting more—more color, more scent, more romance, more drama, more texture, more self. It’s a future that feels alive, contradictory, and wonderfully unserious. If you see the zine in Shoreditch, grab it fast.