LOW-RISE, HIGH ALERT: TikTokers Spot ‘Recession Signs’ in Fashion, Music & Makeup — And It’s Alarming Accurate

They say history doesn’t repeat, but it sure does wear low-rise jeans.

Just when economists thought they had a handle on the usual recession red flags—unemployment data, GDP shrinkage, and Wall Street shivers—Gen Z stood up, put on their thrifted Juicy Couture tracksuits, blasted My Chemical Romance from a cracked iPhone 8, and screamed, “We have indicators of our own, and they slap. ”

Welcome to the bizarre, brilliant, and mildly terrifying world of TikTok’s “Recession Indicators” trend—a social media phenomenon where the nation’s most sarcastic generation has decided to predict economic collapse using lipstick sales, emotional breakdowns, and, yes, the return of pop-punk eyeliner.

And the worst part? They might actually be right.

It all started with a 17-second video posted by a user named @economicgothmom, in which she solemnly applied Wet n Wild lipstick in a CVS bathroom mirror while whispering, “When the Lipstick Index is up and so is my rent. ”

That video exploded.

Within days, the trend was everywhere.

TikTokers—armed with sarcasm, student debt, and an unholy amount of fashion trauma—started pointing to niche cultural “signals” that, according to them, screamed economic doom.

Among the top offenders: curtain bangs, impulse astrology tattoos, thrift stores being picked clean, and the quiet reappearance of velour tracksuits.

You think it’s a joke—until you realize MAC lipstick sales are genuinely spiking, therapists have six-month waitlists, and Goodwill just listed a single Abercrombie skirt for $68.

But behind the giggles and Gen Z sarcasm lies a darker pulse—an entire generation so disenfranchised, so disillusioned, they’re using memes and mascara to map the collapse of late-stage capitalism.

And whether Wall Street bros want to admit it or not, the trend is rooted in real data.

The so-called “Lipstick Index,” coined in the early 2000s by Estée Lauder’s chairman, suggested that in hard times, women skip luxury splurges and settle for small indulgences like lipstick.

Fast-forward to 2025: the lipstick shelves are bare, Fenty can’t restock fast enough, and Ulta’s quarterly reports show a spike in lip product sales concurrent with, wait for it… a dip in real wages and an increase in eviction notices.

Coincidence? Gen Z says: open your eyes, Grandpa.

Another favorite “indicator”? The Resurrection of the Emo Aesthetic.

TikTok is flooded with sad eyeliner tutorials, Dashboard Confessional singalongs, and declarations like “if the economy’s crashing, I might as well look like it.

” But it’s not just fashion: mental health prescriptions are up, anxiety rates are at a historic high, and Spotify’s “Throwback Sad” playlist has entered the top ten in 23 states.

Somewhere in a dark corner of the internet, a Myspace server just twitched.

Even more alarming: retail reports show a boom in secondhand shopping.

Sounds sustainable, right? Think again.

Gen Z isn’t just being eco-friendly—they’re being forced to.

According to a new study, more than 40% of users participating in the trend say they shop exclusively secondhand because they “literally can’t afford anything that isn’t stained or haunted. ”

One viral TikTok showed a girl proudly modeling her $6 prom dress that “smelled like divorce,” while another user flexed her $4 ‘vintage’ jacket—later revealed to be a retired Applebee’s uniform.

If this is the revolution, it smells like expired Stetson and desperation.

Of course, no TikTok trend would be complete without its own conspiracy theories.

Some believe the government is suppressing traditional economic indicators because the real numbers are “too ugly to print. ”

Others are convinced the rise of recession-core fashion is part of a larger plot by fashion houses to rebrand poverty as aesthetic.

As one creator snarked: “They called it ‘poverty chic’ in 2010.

Now it’s ‘grunge revival. ’

Next they’ll be charging us $500 for food stamps printed on denim. ”

Another theory, perhaps more hilarious than horrifying, suggests that Jeff Bezos himself is behind the trend to increase demand for cheaper Amazon fashion.

It’s ridiculous… but somehow, in 2025, not entirely impossible.

Critics have tried to dismiss the trend as “immature,” “nihilistic,” or “just another excuse to romanticize trauma. ”

But here’s the thing: it is nihilistic.

It is absurd.

And that’s exactly the point.

This isn’t a generation with hope—they have vibes.

They’re not investing in stocks—they’re investing in crystals, meme coins, and the vague belief that if the world burns, at least they’ll have funny captions.

One viral comment said it best: “We don’t have 401(k)s.

We have Lana Del Rey and eyeliner.

We’re doing our best. ”

Meanwhile, real economists are… confused.

Some are dismissive.

Others are quietly taking notes.

One anonymous economist at the Federal Reserve reportedly told Business Insider, “I laughed when I saw the first video… but then I cross-referenced their ‘indicators’ with real market behavior, and, uh… let’s just say the kids aren’t wrong. ”

Oh, to be a fly on the wall at the next Fed meeting when Jerome Powell asks, “Have we factored in the low-rise denim variable?”

And while this all might sound like a chaotic Tumblr post from 2009, it’s having real-world effects.

Influencers are monetizing their “Recession Indicator” series with affiliate links to Dollar Tree skincare and ramen brand deals.

Makeup brands are leaning into the trend with lines like “Collapse Chic” and “Mood: Unemployed.

” Meanwhile, therapists are fielding waves of Zoom consultations from 20-somethings wearing butterfly clips and quoting “Fight Club” while crying about their credit score.

If this isn’t late capitalism’s final form, what is?

Even corporations are jumping on the trend.

Taco Bell recently tweeted, “You know it’s a recession when we’re your date night. ”

McDonald’s followed with a post: “Fries: cheaper than therapy since 1955. ”

And of course, Spirit Halloween has begun printing “Recession Costume Starter Pack” kits, complete with fake student loan bills and a dusty iPod loaded with early 2000s screamo.

Satire has officially folded in on itself like a thrifted hoodie from 2003.

The bigger question is: what happens when Gen Z is done laughing? Will they actually push for change, or will they meme themselves into oblivion? Some argue the trend is a cry for help.

Others call it performance art.

But everyone agrees on one thing—when TikTok becomes the nation’s economic barometer, something’s gone very, very wrong.

This generation has watched housing prices skyrocket, job markets evaporate, and avocado toast go from “millennial cliché” to “luxury item. ”

So, is it any wonder their recession radar includes Britney Spears breakdowns and mascara streaks?

And yet, for all the chaos, there’s something oddly powerful about it.

Gen Z may not have financial security, but they have collective sarcasm.

They’ve weaponized humor against despair.

They’ve turned eyeliner into protest and low-rise jeans into warning signs.

In a world where the government gaslights them with phrases like “soft landing,” they’ve decided to scream “Brace for impact” using glitter, memes, and a suspicious number of butterfly clips.

Who needs Bloomberg when you’ve got BeReal and moodboards?

As one user, @debtgirldiaries, dramatically declared in a TikTok with 4 million views, “The stock market may not crash, but I will—right onto my IKEA mattress that’s on the floor because I can’t afford a bed frame. ”

Another stitched it with a reply: “Same, girl.

But make it aesthetic. ”

So yes, the TikTok “Recession Indicators” trend may look like a joke.

It may feel like another blip in an app dominated by dance challenges and chaotic lip-syncs.

But underneath the jokes is a generation broadcasting their economic anxiety in the only language they have left—humor, irony, and eyeliner.

They aren’t charting the Dow; they’re charting the vibes.

And if the vibes are bad? Well… maybe that’s all the signal we need.

Because when mascara sales spike, eyeliner runs, and low-rise jeans creep back from the grave… the economy isn’t just in trouble—it’s screaming for help in a Hot Topic dressing room.

And let’s be honest: when a TikTok about depression-core gets more views than the White House briefing, maybe, just maybe, we should start listening.

Or at least… buy some lipstick.

It’s the only thing going up these days.