It’s kinda chic to expand your vocabulary
image via @service95/instagram
words by lara daly
“One person’s chic could be another person’s tacky.”
There comes a point when a word is used so often it starts to lose its meaning. Chic is one of those words. Originating in France (but supposedly adapted from the German word schick), ‘chic’ as we know it entered the English lexicon in the 1860s, according to the Oxford Dictionary.
It went from describing a certain kind of Parisian finesse to becoming fashion’s catch-all adjective for anything deemed stylish. Sunglasses can be chic. So can a martini, a piece of toast, or a leather laptop bag with your name embossed on it.
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By the late 19th century, it was being used to describe everything from luncheon parties to Audrey Hepburn’s haircut, eventually spawning variations including très chic, geek-chic, boho-chic and (regrettably) heroin-chic. For decades, it was synonymous with certain famous French It Girls: Jane Birkin, Jeanne Damas, Carine Roitfeld.
As a fashion writer, it’s nearly impossible to avoid. As such, it’s been on Fashion Journal‘s ‘banned words’ list since 2021. Every editor since has (mostly) abided by the instruction: “there’s almost always a better adjective you can use.”
Admittedly, there have been times when I’ve decided the word was simply too appropriate to resist (how else do you describe a Vogue cigarette?). But in light of the kinda chic to trend currently circulating on social media, it seemed like a good time to reconsider it.
What started as an ironic way of declaring everything from repeating outfits to earning more money than your husband as “kinda chic” has quickly become another ready-made social media format, with brands jumping on the trend to sell everything from SPF to flights.
I wanted to know what other fashion writers make of chic. Do they still use it? What does it actually mean to them? And, most importantly, what word do they reach for instead?
Maggie Zhou
Fashion editor-at-large at Broadsheet, co-host of Culture Club podcast
I love the word jaunty, and I’m glad it’s getting more airtime (see: jaunty little hat). It’s old-timey, it’s goofy, and it doesn’t take itself too seriously. I wouldn’t say it’s my most-used fashion adjective but it’s one I cherish.
I use the word chic but I’m trying to reach for it less. It’s lazy and doesn’t mean much. It’s also usually a stand-in word that gestures towards white, thin and wealthy aesthetics. We cover this more on the Culture Club podcast.
Cait Emma Burke
Newsletter strategist at Style-ish
For as long as I’ve worked in fashion and editorial, I’ve loathed the word chic. It’s so overused and cliché, but my biggest bugbear is that it tells you almost nothing about what a garment looks or feels like! There isn’t really one alternative word that I replace ‘chic’ with. Instead, I always zero-in on fabrication, cut, shape, trims, hardware, and the way a garment sits. These give the reader a far better idea of what an item looks like.
The other issue is that chic means different things to different people – one person’s chic could be another person’s tacky. That’s why describing an item and situating it time-wise (e.g. is it ’70s-esque or does it bring to mind 2010s American Apparel?) provides the reader with far more value than ‘chic’.
Emma Gleason
Fashion and culture writer at Crust and The Spinoff
Fabulous. It suggests intent and action. The word is alive! Kitsch too. And besides, who wants to be chic anyway? Boring.
Daniel Mizzi
Freelance fashion writer, To Be, Fashion Journal
Louche. The word is rakish, decadent, dissolute. Yet sartorially that seediness becomes seductive. Chic is poised. Chic can be bought, sold and learned. Chic is used by people with a limited vocabulary and, undoubtedly, a plainer closet. Louche has everything to do with sensibility. To wear louche well, one must have raw charisma, enough to make disreputability desirable.
Louche is a thousand-dollar bag worn with flip-flops; expense at the expense of respectability. It’s sunglasses at night, staying out too late, having too much fun and somehow looking better for it. Louche is smacking strawberry bubblegum between your teeth with a smirk that refuses to become a smile.
It’s old-world. It’s actors and aristocrats behaving badly. It’s people who have probably missed breakfast. Louche has atmosphere. And most importantly, it’s not chic. Something louche can absolutely be chic, but calling it chic erases the loucheness. In a sentence: ‘He’s louche – I need him.’
Zoe Walker Ahwa
Fashion journalist and former editor of Ensemble
I really enjoy the word ‘wonky’ in a fashion sense, as in quirky, imperfect or subversive; bad taste that is good taste. I still like whimsical, although that is approaching saturation point.
I have strong opinions on overused words in fashion writing. ‘Iconic’ and ‘cult’ have been on banned lists at past publications (is it actually iconic? Is a brand really cult?). Chic is everywhere and often used incorrectly, but I’ll still continue to use it. Another adjective I’m noticing a lot in fashion copy and brand newsletters lately is refined. I blame ChatGPT.
Tessa Patrick
Freelance fashion writer, Dazed, Vogue
Reading back over some stories of late, I think it’s the word ‘easeful’, which for a while I wasn’t even sure was really a word. I think I took it on as a substitute for the often overdone ‘effortless’ or ‘easy’, which really just summarises how I like to get dressed myself.
It’s interesting when a word like effortless loses its meaning – there’s a lot of hate for the word chic right now but I’ve always relied on it in my writing, even if I was using it in jest, and I’ll find it hard to write a sentence in the same way now that wider audiences have determined it a no-go word.
What’s interesting for me is the whole ‘kinda chic’ thing stemmed from writer and creator Verona Farrell’s beloved series of notes of things that she found ‘impossibly chic’ (although I want to say for a while she was talking about things that she also felt were ‘a little bit rock’n’roll‘).
Regardless of the format, audiences loved the series, and it’s curious that once an idea, or a word in this case, achieves a kind of virality or commonness, the fall-off is even bigger and the word somehow loses its meaning. And I wish the internet hadn’t ruined my love for the word chic, it’s just so good!
Daisy Henry
Features editor at Fashion Journal
I used to love the word chic, so it pains me how overused it’s become. Recently, Grace O’Neill was talking about it on the After Work Drinks podcast, saying how it was one of the first words that captured the feeling of not aspiring to look ‘pretty’ or ‘hot,’ but to look chic. I think there’s something about it that feels relatively removed from the male gaze and is so widely applicable. But I hate the ‘it’s kinda chic to’ trend circulating online. Stop ruining it!
Nevertheless, it’s a good chance to mix up my vocabulary. In lieu, I’m finding myself saying any of the following: silly, playful, whimsical, divine, darling and unnecessary (as a compliment).
Stephanie Simons
Writer, Fashion Journal
I’m a millennial, so unfortunately (fortunately?) the fashion vocab of the late 2000s is baked into me. I still describe things as ‘insane’ and ‘fierce’ completely unironically. “That jacket is insane” is, in my language, an extremely serious endorsement.
As for the word chic, I never had an issue with it… before. Now I don’t dislike the word so much as the way we use it as a catch-all for anything we’ve collectively decided is stylish. I sometimes wonder if we’re losing the habit of sitting with something long enough to work out what we actually think. What specifically do you like? Or have you just recognised societal codes that tell you something is ‘chic’? The word itself doesn’t bother me nearly as much as how easily it can become a substitute for having an opinion.
Jillian Arcenas
Content and production coordinator at Fashion Journal
In a more casual sense, I love using the word ‘gorg’. To me, it’s more open-ended and not really tied to a certain image. Everyone has their own idea of what is gorgeous. The word chic has become so widely used on the internet that it seems to be applied to everything. However, to me, the word signifies that something is elevated and refined, which doesn’t apply to everything and that is okay! If everything is chic, what exactly is chic?
For more thoughts on chic, try this.
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