We’ve lived through it all: Hot Girl Summer. Barbenheimer. Brat Summer.
With the arrival of a spring season comes the seasonal trend predictions. It’s not enough to have a song of the summer or even a color of the summer (RIP the Tomato Girl), now the whole season must be branded under a clear and discernible banner.
At Coachella, Charli xcx first declared it Lorde Summer, bringing the NZ pop icon and newly minted carabiner queen onto the stage to perform “Girl, so confusing.” But by weekend two of the Californian music festival, even Charli had expanded the options, offering nearly three dozen possible summers, from Perfume Genius Summer to David Cronenberg Summer.
In that spirit the i-D staff had a go at what summer 2025 is shaping up to be. Agree? Disagree? Dial 1-877-778-2558 and leave a voicemail with your thoughts.
Crash Out Summer
We’ve exhausted every aesthetic. Quiet Luxury, Clowncore, Corporate Grunge—dead in the water. You can’t even whisper “vibe shift” without someone lobbing a Le Creuset at your head. What’s left? Just the slow, sweaty unraveling. This is Crash Out Summer.
It’s heatstroke and late capitalism. A wildfire and political upheaval in one tab, the SSENSE sale in another. Mismatched designer socks, heatwaves that feel like surveillance, vacant office parks rebranded as “lifestyle hubs.” The end of the world, accessorized with a beat-up vintage Prada Re-Nylon. You’re eating a popsicle on the sidewalk while a drone hums overhead. You don’t flinch (unless you’re Drake).
The palette: butter yellow (too cheerful to trust), washed-out mint, post-sunset mauve. The fabrics? Rick Owens sheer, Acne Studios warped, Miu Miu lived-in. Everything looks like it stayed out in the sun too long—and liked it. Crash Out Summer is what happens when a 2008 Tumblr girl grows up and works in climate policy. It looks like archival techwear from a Berlin flea market. Feels like The Sims with no doors and the thermostat stuck at 110°F.
The soundtrack is Mitski covering Aqua. The look is sheer, slouchy, slightly scorched—you’re always kind of melting. The attitude? Disassociated. Not giving up—just reclining. This isn’t dystopia. It’s not utopia either. It’s Tuesday. — Alex Kessler, deputy editor
Same Girl Summer
Sociopolitical instability sends people to the aesthetic poles: nostalgia, maximalism, blandness, and futurism. Katy Perry in space? That’s Neo-Colonial Space Girl Summer. Lana Del Rey’s using the same picture for every single release? That’s Retro Sad GirlWife Summer. Addison Rae’s American Apparel hoodie? Both Nostalgic for Neon Girl Summer and Madcap Maximalist Girl Summer.
But the trend sweeping the streets of SoHo and WeHo that’s got be in a tangle is Same Girl Summer. Walking up Broadway last week I was struck by the sheer amount of girls in medium wash jeans, white tank tops, and claw clips. Looking at the Coachella main stage, every cool girl from Charli to Clairo is wearing All-In. At least two girls I saw in Dimes Square were wearing the same Vaquera bra button-down, and Uptown at the Met I clocked a clique of women all carrying the same Hermès Kelly bag in similar jewel-toned hues. Same Girl Summer isn’t about one aesthetic look—it could be maximalist or minimalist, nostalgic or totally meh—but it’s about blending in with those around you. It’s #seekingsame. It’s not just looking like Timothée Chalamet’s doppelganger but aspiring to look like Timothée Chalament’s doppelganger. It’s about blending into your surroundings, whatever they are. Standing out is only for the brave—and this summer, groupthink is overtaking singularity. — Steff Yotka, global editorial director
Capri Son Summer
Move over Gay Son/Thot Daughter, it’s time for ambiguously wealthy European asshole Summer. Why is everyone on a boat in Italy from May to September? I thought we all had JOBS! Turns out everybody else has Capri in the distance…take a page from Capri Son and log off after 1 pm. — Nicolaia Rips, senior editor
Amoeba Boyfriend Summer
First there was the Golden Retriever Boyfriend. Then there was the Rodent Boyfriend. This summer we’re working our way even further down the evolutionary ladder. Welcome to Amoeba Boyfriend Summer.
In the age of AI, who needs a boyfriend with a job, plans, ideas, friends, or even a central nervous system? The most aspirational beau is one who simply exists, passively absorbing life (and Zyn) through his cellular walls. Haven’t we always wanted someone to “just be there” for us?
Amoeba Boyfriends are difficult to find because they don’t do things or go places. So when you finally bag yours, make sure to keep him in a nutrient-rich slurry so he lasts until Labor Day. And, whatever you do, don’t ask him to do the Apple Dance. — Thom Bettridge, editor-in-chief
Cringe-Core
Let’s be earnestly cringe again. Acting like Drew Barrymore in the rain but meaning it. Telling yourself well done and that you’re proud of what you’ve achieved. Taking a photo of some flowers and posting it on your Instagram story with an inspiring Natasha Bedingfield song over it, but feeling every word she sings. Doing the things you love even if they’re embarrassing, and telling everyone about it, because you love it and that’s okay, as long as you’re happy.
Being cringe has thrived through a performative lens online, with a keen awareness that we’re poking fun at the people who seem to not really care about what other people think. My TikTok algorithm sends me women who meet this brief daily: Care by Cara, the clean food influencer who spins and dances in the aisles of American supermarkets, pointing out which products contain seed oils and preservatives. Then there’s Chloe Williams (or Chloe Leng Leng, as she’s known), who just really wants to enjoy life sipping cocktails in British seaside towns, and going to reality star meet and greets at nightclubs with her parents. They’re enthusiastic about what they love, and express it with little inhibition, and so people are naturally pointing and laughing at them. But I sort of want to be them.
Cringe is now a performance, not a personality trait. We need to return to a state of being cringe in a way that’s liberating. It’s giving tap dance classes. It’s giving die-hard Hillsong attendee. It’s giving Disney adults. So this summer, the only thing I want to see on my IG feed is a photo of you and your friends, heads thrown back, grinning hugely, as you hold glasses of wine on a patch of grass eight dogs have pissed on that day. The caption must read, “Grateful for these ones <3” and the song must be by Demi Lovato. It’s embarrassing but you do not have to care. You just have to mean it. 🙂 — Douglas Greenwood, entertainment editor
Lomography Summer
I’ve been thinking about lomography for about 6 months now. I saw someone at New York Fashion Week using a Diana+ camera and laughed out loud.
I miss flickr, I miss low expectations, I miss the nonsense. Getting older isn’t fun, the adults were right. Fuck.
I’ve been screaming films dead for about 8 years, but one thing about me is I’m a massive hypocrite and will happily eat my words. Also if you’re spending £150 on a digital Fuji finepix, sorry, but you’re a mug.
Anyway, lomography. A silly camera movement born around 2006, rooted in the uncertainties of shooting film. A bit of a gimmick but a lot of fun. The main focus being cheap plastic cameras, expired film and a disregard for how to take a photo. This messy concoction of image making created a unique, at times ugly, aesthetic that bled well into the mid 2010’s and into my youth. It was my first, and many others, real foray into photography.
I’m also deliberately ignoring Lomography™, the “camera brand.” That’s a huge scam.
This is all to say, lomography is back. Or it should be. I swear to god it’ll change your life, if only for the summer. Go to a charity shop, pick up the cheapest film camera you can find and see what happens. Plus you’ll have loads of shit photos to bluetac onto your wall. 📸 — Jackson Bowley, photo editor
Hot Turkey Summer
Call it escapism, call it diet-nihilism, or any other form of yolo-ism you want: This summer, people are harnessing the unhinged energy of quitting cold turkey and flipping it on its head to go all in. In short, bets are off— if you’re going to do something, do the most. It’s exactly this mix of general uncertainty, algorithmic chaos, and an ambiguous trend climate that has made picking something up and starting it full-force as easy and undetectable as ever. Addison Rae is doing it. Duran Lantink is doing it with Jean Paul Gautier. So change your personality, embrace the devil on both shoulders, and a dirty martini in both hands; this Hot Turkey summer is yours. — Kira Locke, senior social editor
Neon Summer
The film studio AND the palette. Basically: This summer is going to be a movie and that movie is Spring Breakers. — Nicolaia Rips, senior editor
Touch Grass Summer
Propel billionaires into space in their bulbous-tipped aluminium shaft, who cares. Down on earth, there are visceral carnal pleasures that stir something real, deep, primal. Things you can really feel. Faces that age. Puckered skin and fleshy folds you can pinch. Arse on earth, cheeks against dirt. Leave your hair mussed, ruffled, unbrushed. Succumb to the electric charge in the air peak-summer, wearing too-small shorts, and letting a single shoulder strap fall loose. Spit while you talk — refuse to text, you can speak IRL. Leave your phone in the grass and delete dating apps (you can signal you’re DTF without swiping anything but sweat from your forehead).
Earthly desires are the big differentiator from AI-bores and Bezos. But that’s not the point, the point is that everything (like denim, leather, silk and your fave Miu Miu flats) feels and looks better worn-in. — Sara McAlpine, contributing editor