Cringe, Sincerity, and the Strange Freedom of Caring Too Much

How to survive being perceived

I’ve been thinking a lot about something Rian Phin (@thatadult) said in one of her videos recently—about fashion culture’s move toward sincerity. How the pendulum is swinging back from the cold, cynical irony of the Balenciaga era, and into something warmer, more direct, less afraid of being perceived as earnest. She pointed to the difference between Balenciaga and Margiela—not in design, but in philosophy. One thrives on detachment, while the other is rooted in a kind of obsessive craft. One wants to provoke you. The other wants to feel something.

It made me think about “cringe mountain.”

If you haven’t heard the term, cringe mountain is the idea that when you start doing something earnestly—being creative, posting your work, dancing, DJing, wearing something that actually excites you—you’ll inevitably pass through a period where it feels embarrassing. You’ll second-guess yourself. People will make comments. You’ll feel like you’re trying too hard. That’s the base of the mountain. But if you keep going—if you push past the discomfort—you eventually get to the top. That’s where the magic is. That’s where you’ve moved beyond self-consciousness and into full ownership. You’re no longer apologizing for the fact that you care. You’re just doing it.

I think most people stop halfway up. They feel the discomfort of being earnest and mistake it for failure. So they stay safe. They joke about their work before anyone else can. They post with irony. They dress “cool” instead of personal. They pull back just enough to avoid being laughed at—but also just enough to never fully arrive at anything meaningful.

And the thing is, the internet made it worse. It gave us an audience before we had the chance to get grounded. It made “cool” synonymous with detached. And it made people terrified of looking like they were trying. Because trying is vulnerable. Trying is emotional. Trying is—God forbid—cringe.

Today Brenda Weischer (@brendahashtag) captioned a post:
“The world needs more DJs and influencers.”

At first glance, it sounds flippant. Like a punchline. But what she meant—and what I deeply agree with—is that we need more people who are willing to be seen doing the thing. Not just theorizing or mocking or talking in circles, but actually showing up, building something, pressing play. There’s a weird courage in choosing to participate, especially in a space that thrives on critique. Or at least thats how I interpreted it

That’s what I’ve always loved about Anthony Bourdain. He didn’t posture. He didn’t try to be the smartest or the edgiest. He just told the truth. He made things. He asked questions. He cared—sometimes to the point of exhaustion—and he didn’t hide it behind sarcasm or performance. He walked straight through cringe mountain and kept going.

I think the creatives who last are the ones who figure that out early. That sincerity is uncomfortable at first. That being seen is always going to feel risky. But that doesn’t mean you should retreat. It means you’re probably getting closer to the work that matters.

So maybe that’s what this new chapter in fashion is really about. Not a trend. Not a rejection of irony for the sake of it. But a quiet collective urge to care again. To design from love instead of cynicism. To post without needing to protect it with 17 disclaimers. To dress like you mean it. To make things—even if they feel cringey at first. Embrace the cringe <3