Every day, someone on the internet is telling us we need something. A new foundation that promises poreless skin. A trending lip liner that all the hottest influencers are pushing all at once.

Between influencer partnerships and an endless stream of TikTok Shop recommendations, it’s becoming difficult to distinguish between what’s actually worth buying and what’s simply being sold to us.

But there’s one type of beauty content I’ve found myself trusting more and more: empties.

Someone sits in front of a pile of empty bottles and tubes squeezed within an inch of their lives, explaining what they loved, what they hated, and what they’d actually repurchase.

There’s something convincing about an empty bottle. Unlike a first impression or a sponsored unboxing, it’s evidence that someone has lived with a product long enough to form an opinion.

Buying something once signals curiosity. Using every last drop signals something much harder to earn: trust.

Of course, finishing something doesn’t automatically mean it was good. Maybe you just wanted to get your money’s worth. But finishing it and buying it again? That’s a pretty compelling endorsement.

The rise of the empty bottle

It turns out I’m not alone in my appreciation for a well-used product.

According to consumer trends research firm Spate and as reported by Glossy, interest in empties videos grew 17.5% year-over-year, while interest in Project Pan surged 572.9% since 2024.

If you’re unfamiliar, Project Pan is a social media movement encouraging people to finish the beauty products they already own before purchasing more. It sits alongside the broader rise of underconsumption core, deinfluencing, and no-buy challenges.

While our feeds have spent years encouraging us to accumulate more, these movements are celebrating the opposite of using what we already have.

And given the economic climate, it’s not really surprising. When everything feels more expensive, getting the most out of what you’ve already purchased starts to feel less like frugality and more like common sense.

But I think there’s something else happening here, too.

For years, beauty culture has revolved around the excitement of acquiring something new. Now, there’s a growing appreciation for the less glamorous part of consumption: actually using the things we buy.

The flex is shifting from how much you own to how much you use.

And for brands, that raises an interesting question. In an industry built around constant novelty, what happens when consumers start valuing longevity over the next big launch?

The next frontier of beauty influence isn’t convincing someone to try a product. It’s convincing them that it’s worth coming back to.

What does this mean for beauty brands?

As a cultural strategist, I find this shift especially interesting because it presents an opportunity for brands to rethink an often-overlooked part of the customer experience: the very end.

Brands spend an enormous amount of time thinking about first impressions. The packaging, the unboxing, the first application. But what about the last?

Take Fenty Beauty’s Eaze Drop Blur + Smooth Foundation Stick. Its twist-up packaging is designed to help consumers access the remaining formula instead of leaving usable product behind.

Then there’s UK-based skincare brand Avant, whose Supercharged Cocoa Rejuvenating Multitasker Serum comes in a cleverly designed glass bottle. As the formula runs low, the bottle can sit at a 45-degree angle, while a curved pipette helps extract every last drop.

Both are meaningful design decisions.

They’re helping consumers get more value from something they’ve already paid for, while also making the experience of finishing a product easier and more satisfying.

And that’s where I think there’s a bigger opportunity.

What if brands designed for the final interaction with a product just as intentionally as they design for the first?

The final swipe, pump, or squeeze is a moment of truth. Has the product delivered on its promise? Was it worth the money? Can it be a shareable moment? And, most importantly, would you buy it again?

That final interaction could be an opportunity to reinforce value, create a memorable brand moment, and encourage repurchase. Especially as more consumers share their empties online, a thoughtfully designed finishing experience could even become a form of organic marketing.

So, what are the ultimate empties?

In honor of the upcoming Sephora sale, I decided to conduct a little fun and informal field research.

I asked people in my life of different ages and from different cities to share their ultimate empties: the beauty products they’ve actually finished, repurchased, and keep coming back to.

Not the trendiest products, the most expensive products, or the ones with the prettiest packaging. Just the ones that have genuinely earned a permanent and reoccuring place in their routines.

Here’s what they told me.

Berkeley | Gen Z | Austin, Texas

Sephora Glow Super Brightening Serum

“I love the Vitamin c product because it makes my skin very tight and bright in the morning. I literally use all of it.”

Berkeley’s pick reflects the rise of skinvesting, as younger consumers prioritize products that promise visible, long-term benefits.

There’s an interesting economic backdrop to this. With traditional milestones increasingly out of reach, younger consumers are finding satisfaction in more attainable investments. According to 2026 research from First Insight, 59% of Gen Z consumers trade down in some categories to splurge in others, with skincare and beauty among their priorities.

It feels like a modern take on the lipstick effect: when big-ticket purchases feel unattainable, a serum that makes your skin look brighter and tighter suddenly feels like a worthwhile investment.

Freck Original Freckle Pen

“I love the freckle look. It’s super cute. I use it all the time.”

When it comes to makeup, Gen Z is still embracing a more playful approach. According to 2026 estimates from retail analytics platform Flapen, U.S. Amazon searches for freckle pens increased 30.9% over the previous quarter, with approximately 2.3 million searches over the past year.

What was once something people might have tried to conceal has become a beauty feature people are deliberately creating. It’s a reflection of how younger consumers are approaching makeup less as a way to achieve conventional perfection and more as a tool for self-expression.

Paris | Gen Z | Los Angeles, California

The 7 Virtues Buttercream Haze Eau de Parfum

“Literally the best smelling perfume.”

Paris’s pick is right on trend with the growing appetite for gourmand fragrances, scents inspired by edible notes like vanilla, caramel, chocolate, pistachio, and my personal fav cereal milk (see here — and don’t judge till you’ve tried it!).

And the numbers are also pretty scrumptious. According to trend forecasting firm Spate as reported by The Hustle, TikTok searches for gourmand fragrances grew 186% between July 2024 and July 2025, while Google searches rose 82% over the same period.

But there’s another unexpected ingredient in this trend: GLP-1 medications.

As appetite-suppressing drugs like Ozempic and Wegovy become more widely used, fragrance houses are exploring whether consumers might be seeking some of their sweet indulgences through scent instead of food. According to NielsenIQ data reported by Reuters in October 2026, U.S. GLP-1 users spend 26% more on fragrances than the average consumer.

The science connecting GLP-1 use specifically to gourmand preferences is still emerging, so it’s too early to say these medications are driving the trend. But could fragrance be another way for consumers to satisfy their cravings, without taking a bite?

Or is something else at play? As GLP-1 users potentially spend less on food, could that discretionary income be finding its way into other indulgences, like fragrance? And as some users experience changes in their bodies and confidence, could scent become another form of self-expression, particularly for those who previously preferred to fade into the background?

Innisfree Green Tea Hyaluronic Acid Korean Hydrating Moisturizer

“My go to moisturizer.”

Like Berkeley, Paris also has a skincare staple she keeps returning to. It’s another reminder that Gen Z’s beauty routines aren’t just about chasing the latest viral makeup look. They’re balancing experimentation with everyday products they trust to work.

Marissa | Millennial | Brooklyn, New York

Huda Beauty Easy Bake Setting Powder

“It’s actually worth it. The quality really stands out. I also align with her politics.”

Huda Beauty’s Easy Bake Setting Powder generated $200.5 million in earned media value in 2025, making it the most talked-about beauty product by that measure for the second consecutive year. But Marissa’s loyalty goes beyond performance. According to YouGov, nearly one in four Gen Z and Millennials (24%) say it’s important for brands to reflect their personal views, compared with 18% of Baby Boomers. What a brand stands for can matter just as much as what it sells.

MAC Lustreglass Lipstick

“I started using this when Too Faced discontinued the one I used, and it holds well and doesn’t smear.”

Interestingly, Marissa says much of the rest of her makeup routine has shifted toward more affordable brands.

“I actually think everything else I use is drugstore. I used to use Too Faced Better Than Sex mascara, but now I use Maybelline. I transitioned because of cost and the Maybelline one works really well for me. Bronzer and foundation are Milani, and I use ELF for concealer and eye brow pencil because I realized Benefit, Too Faced, and other products I was using weren’t really much better quality.”

What I find interesting about Marissa’s answers is that she isn’t necessarily loyal to prestige or budget beauty. She’s willing to pay more when she can genuinely see a difference, but she’s equally happy to switch to affordable alternatives when she can’t.

This indicates the products that earn repeat purchases are the ones that consistently prove their value, whether they cost $8 or $48.

Sonia | Millennial | Jersey City, New Jersey

Hourglass Unlocked Mascara

“I wear contact lenses and when my eyes get watery, its the ONLY mascara that does not flake or give me panda eyes! I think it’s a holy grail mascara. It also comes off very easy with just plain soap and water.”

Interestingly, mascara is becoming less of a makeup essential among younger consumers. As The Business of Fashion recently explored, Gen Z is moving away from traditional “Millennial makeup” in favor of softer, more natural looks, including the growing no-mascara trend. But for Sonia, mascara remains a holy grail. While beauty trends evolve, the products that genuinely work for us aren’t always the ones we’re willing to give up.

As a fellow Millennial with straight lashes, my picks for lash products that ACTUALLY enable my lashes to stay curled all day were sourced in Japan, and I still buy them stateside here and here.

Quick update: According to , Mascara has been gaining popularity since October, with interest up 46% compared to July. Thank gawd!

Trisha | Gen X | Mérida, Mexico

Trisha was kind enough to send me her entire arsenal of ultimate empties. And when someone has this many products they swear by, I’m listening!

• BOBBI BROWN | Vitamin Enriched Face Base+ Moisturizer & Primer

• DR. JART+ | Dr. Jart+ Premium BB All-Day Wear Korean Tinted Moisturizer with SPF 30

• KOSAS | Brow Pop Dual-Action Defining Pencil

• CLINIQUE | High Impact Mascara

• YOUTH TO THE PEOPLE | Superfood Facial Cleanser

• DERMALOGICA | Daily Microfoliant Exfoliator

• DRUNK ELEPHANT | Protini Polypeptide Firming Refillable Moisturizer

• DRUNK ELEPHANT | Lala Retro Ceramide Face Moisturiser

• SUNDAY RILEY | Good Genes Lactic Acid Treatment

• BIOSSANCE | Squalane + Marine Algae Eye Cream

There’s a growing conversation online about wanting to see more Gen X and older beauty creators. And honestly, it makes sense. Why are we taking all our skincare advice from 20-year-olds who haven’t even developed their first wrinkle?

The numbers back this up. According to Collage Group, 39% of Gen X makeup users value beauty recommendations from someone around their own age. And according to the WEF, Gen X spends one-quarter of global totals in beauty and is expected to contribute an additional $80 billion by 2030. Two-thirds of that growth will come from Asia Pacific and North America. Clearly, this is an audience whose opinions (and purchasing power) deserve more attention.

There’s something to be said for recommendations from someone who’s had years to figure out what actually works for their skin. Trisha’s list feels like the kind of beauty advice I’d trust with my life. I’m taking notes.

The real beauty recommendation

The products we use to the very last drop, and then willingly spend our money on again, tell a different story.

Now I’m curious: What’s your ultimate empty? The product you’ve scraped, squeezed, or shaken every last drop out of, and then gone back to buy again.

Comment your age, city, product, and why you keep returning to it. Consider this a fun little consumer research experiment.

Thank you for reading There’s Something Here by Shanti Maung, a cultural strategist exploring consumer behavior, internet culture, emerging trends, and the things that catch our attention.

Ciao and come again soon!

As part of my TikTok series, From Burnout to Brave, I’ve been challenging myself to try new things. Most recently, that meant attempting to order in Swiss German. Was it perfect? Nope. But that’s the point. Genau!

And that’s also why I’m starting this.

After spending years working as a cultural strategist for some of the biggest brands, I’ve decided it’s time to put some of my own observations out into the world. I’ve spent much of my career studying what people want, how they behave, and why certain things catch on. Now, I’m turning that curiosity into something personal.

Consider this a collection of things I’ve seen, wanted, learned, and saved. Expect a little bit of everything: internet culture, generational nuances, beauty, tech, brands, consumer behavior, and whatever else I’m coveting and noticing.

Thanks for being here. Let’s see where this goes!

01 / Something I Saw

The Art of Being Scarily Obscure

Mean Girls famously declared Halloween the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut without judgment. Two decades later, apparently the real goal is proving how niche your cultural references are.

According to the National Retail Federation, 21% of Gen Z say having a unique or niche costume matters most, compared with 16% of consumers overall. From obscure movie characters to hyper-specific internet references, there’s nothing quite like having to explain to everyone at the function what you’re dressed as.

And with Google’s annual Frightgeist report revealing the year’s most searched costumes and most popular horror movies, there’s something amusing about everyone searching for inspiration while trying to look original.

Personally, I think Nathan Fielder's new Elizabeth Holmes documentary, You Can See Everything, (which has already inspired a lookalike contest and many Halloween costumes) might be the scariest movie of them all. Although dressing up as the famed Theranos founder might be the least niche costume on TikTok by Saturday.

As for me, Halloween also happens to be my husband’s birthday, so I’ll be unplugging, handing out candy to trick-or-treaters, and offering the adults a choice between a shot or an avocado straight from our tree. Very LA. Pick your poison.

02 / Something I Learned

Maybe We Don’t Need Another Trend Report

For an industry dedicated to understanding culture, cultural strategists aren’t feeling particularly optimistic about their own cultural impact.

According to a new report from Matt Klein (who, fun fact, hired me at sparks & honey), two-thirds of surveyed cultural strategists don’t believe their work is making society better, despite separate research suggesting 69% of consumers believe brands have the power to improve culture. Having spent years working in cultural strategy before being laid off in August, I’ve had some time to reflect on what meaningful work looks like.

So when I came across an interview with Lindsey Wehking of Nonfiction Research, it felt like a breath of fresh air. The agency takes an unconventional approach to consumer research, immersing itself in communities and finding ways to give back, from organizing open-mic nights that continued long after the research ended to creating maternal mental health resources distributed through OB-GYN offices.

My brother, photographer Sean Maung, has spent years documenting subcultures and communities that rarely get the spotlight. His work is another reminder of how much there is to discover when we take the time to look beyond the obvious.

Club Tempo — Photography by Sean Maung.

Cultural strategy doesn’t have to stop at identifying the next big thing. Sometimes the most valuable insights come from getting out into the world, connecting with real people, and finding ways to make a real difference.

Further reading:

• Matt Klein, How to Stay Ahead (& Sane) in Cultural Strategy

• The Pollinatr, Trendsettrs: Lindsey Wehking

03 / Something I Want

Disclosure: This post contains affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you make a purchase, at no additional cost to you.

Sometimes Older Is Better

Out with the new, in with the old! While beauty brands are constantly introducing the next big thing, Dior and Saie () are proving there’s still plenty of life left in yesterday’s favorites.

Dior is digging into its archives with Dioriginals, a collection of 13 historic fragrances restored by perfumer Francis Kurkdjian to capture their original scents.

Meanwhile, Saie has taken a different approach, teaming up with influencer to recreate the magic of Tom Ford’s discontinued Golden Peach eyeshadow. As a close personal friend of Saie’s founder (we were both featured in a Vogue Business article about the New York Knicks, so we’re basically besties), I’m a big fan of this strategy.

After years of searching for the perfect replacement and testing more than 50 alternatives, Chody finally found her match by creating Saie’s new Bellini eyeshadow. And now I’m craving a Bellini! Apparently, I’m not alone, considering the eyeshadow is already sold out at Sephora.

While Dior is breathing new life into its own archives, Saie is capitalizing on a product another brand left behind.

Both offer a reminder that innovation doesn’t always require reinventing the wheel. Sometimes the next big thing is simply bringing back what consumers already loved.

04 / Something I Saved

It’s the Little Things

As a new homeowner, I’ve become obsessed with the little details that make a house feel like a home. And apparently, Gen Z is too. According to Etsy’s latest trend report, searches for whimsical decor are up 61% among Gen Z shoppers, reflecting a growing appetite for interiors with more personality. Case in point: hinge heads, tiny decorative figurines that sit on top of door hinges, turning one of the most overlooked parts of a home into an unexpected design moment. Affordable, renter-friendly, and easy to DIY, they’re proof that adding personality to your space doesn’t require a major renovation. Naturally, I’ve now added these miniature accessories to my growing list of home projects, thanks in part to this Instagram post by Mia Jajah.

Thank you for reading There’s Something Here by Shanti Maung, a cultural strategist exploring consumer behavior, internet culture, emerging trends, and the things that catch our attention.

Ciao and come again soon!

When my mom suffered a life-changing injury, I didn’t expect one of the consequences to be a crash course in inheritance.

But over the past two years, my family has found itself navigating conversations most people hope to put off for decades. Wills, trusts, power-of-attorney, real estate, and all the uncomfortable questions that arise.

The weird part? Both of my parents are still alive. But as the daughter of two psychologists, I suppose it was inevitable that we’d end up having the uncomfortable conversations.

We’re living through what’s been dubbed the Great Wealth Transfer, as trillions of dollars in assets are expected to pass from baby boomers to younger generations. For millennials, the conversation often revolves around whether an inheritance will finally make homeownership or financial security possible.

But what happens when the wealth transfer starts before anyone dies?

Are millennials inheritance-impatient?

In February, The Guardian published an article about inheritance disputes in Australia, where lawyers described an increase in complicated conflicts over family assets.

One phrase stood out to me: inheritance impatience.

With housing unaffordable and financial security feeling out of reach, some adult children are beginning to view an expected inheritance less as a distant possibility and more as a financial lifeline.

It’s easy to characterize that as greed. But I think the reality is more complicated.

For some, an inheritance represents the opportunity to buy a home, reduce financial stress, or achieve a level of stability that might otherwise feel unattainable. For others, it’s about something less tangible: recognition, fairness, or reassurance that their place in the family is appreciated.

And then there’s the question we don’t talk about nearly as much: What if our parents need that money more than we do?

That’s the question my family unexpectedly found ourselves confronting.

The cost of growing old

My mom’s injury changed almost everything about my parents’ retirement.

Suddenly, the life they’d spent decades building in California had to accommodate a new reality of home modifications for accessibility, caregiving, medical needs, and the enormous expense of navigating a disability in America.

For a while, they tried to make it work. But the cost of care was eating into their retirement savings at an alarming rate.

Eventually, they made the decision to move to Switzerland, where my mother is from. Ironically, one of the most expensive countries in the world offered something they were struggling to afford in the United States: access to subsidized caregiving and a healthcare system that could make managing her ongoing needs more financially sustainable.

It’s a strange thing to watch your parents make such a dramatic move, not because they want a new adventure, but because the financial reality of staying in the United States has become difficult to justify.

According to CareScout’s 2025 Cost of Care Survey, the national median cost of nonmedical in-home caregiving was approximately $80,000 a year for 44 hours of care per week. A private nursing home room costs nearly $130,000 annually.

These aren’t the expenses most people imagine when they picture retirement. My mom needed care around the clock. She was too young to qualify for Medicare based on age, and her financial circumstances put her above Medi-Cal’s eligibility limits. Those national figures offer a starting point for understanding the expense. For our family, the reality was far more costly.

For decades, we’ve talked about baby boomers as the wealthiest generation, sitting on assets that will eventually trickle down to their children. But there’s another possibility: a meaningful portion of that wealth may be spent on simply getting older.

And until my mom’s injury, none of us had really considered what would happen to our family home. We never discussed selling it or what it might mean for our inheritance. We just assumed my parents would grow old there. It was the kind of future we took for granted, until suddenly it wasn’t an option anymore.

The Great Wealth Transfer might not be a straightforward handoff from parents to children. Some of it may go to hospitals, caregivers, and long-term care providers instead.

The inheritance conversation came early

Before my parents moved, I bought our family home.

A pretty major milestone for a millennial, and one I can readily admit wouldn’t have been possible without my parents.

It also felt particularly meaningful to buy a home in the city I grew up in, Culver City, which has undergone a huge transformation in recent years. It’s become a magnet for tech and entertainment company LA headquarters. Amazon, Apple, Sony, TikTok, HBO, and Pinterest all have a presence here. I now have tech-bro neighbors and a Waymo that parks on my street to slumber every night. The neighborhood I grew up in looks different from the one I remember. As housing prices have climbed and gentrification has reshaped the city, being able to stay here feels like both an accomplishment and an enormous privilege.

Childhood photo: My brothers posing in front of our family home, with me in the box.

And if anyone is navigating California’s Proposition 19 and the complexities of transferring a family home between generations, I’m happy to share what I’ve learned from my own experience. It’s been quite the education.

What might sound like a straightforward real estate transaction was anything but. Transferring property within a family, particularly while parents are still alive, raises questions that go well beyond the purchase itself.

How do you account for an asset changing hands across generations while making sure your parents’ needs still come first? What happens to the property taxes, the home’s tax basis, and the capital gains bill if you eventually sell? What does an equal inheritance actually mean? And how do you balance what’s fair to everyone with what’s best for the family as a whole?

My parents sought professional guidance to help navigate the process and document their intentions.

For us, keeping the house in the family meant more than preserving an asset. Rather than selling it to a stranger, my parents could still come back to California and have a familiar place to stay whenever they visited. That has already happened: my dad stayed with me for a month while my mom was receiving inpatient care in Switzerland. He had a familiar home to return to, and I was there to help care for him. Even though their lives had moved to Switzerland, they wouldn’t have to say goodbye to the home they’d spent decades living in.

But one thing I’ve learned is that financial clarity doesn’t necessarily translate into emotional clarity. Something can make sense on paper and still feel complicated in practice.

There’s also a distinction I’ve come to appreciate between equality, equity, and fairness. Equality might mean dividing everything into identical shares. Equity might mean accounting for different circumstances and needs. But fairness? That’s much harder to define, especially when each person brings their own perspective.

Consider the invisible labor that often comes with caring for aging parents. What happens when one sibling lives nearby and helps manage appointments, caregiving, and everyday needs, while another lives thousands of miles away? Should the time, emotional energy, and personal and financial sacrifices involved in caregiving factor into inheritance? Or should every child receive an equal share, regardless of their circumstances or involvement?

An arrangement can be equal without feeling equitable. It can be designed to be equitable without everyone necessarily experiencing it as fair. And perhaps that’s what makes inheritance so complicated: we’re trying to assign financial value to relationships and responsibilities that were never meant to be transactional.

And when the asset in question is the family home it really isn’t just an asset. It’s a place where people grew up, celebrated birthdays, had their first bike ride, and accumulated years of memories. Suddenly you’re putting a dollar figure on something that has always been worth more than money.

The art of letting go

Before my parents moved to Switzerland, they had another enormous task ahead of them: going through decades of accumulated belongings.

They went through the entire house, deciding what to keep, what to donate, and what to leave behind. After spending so much of their lives in California, they ultimately took only a select few things with them to Switzerland.

The process reminded me of Swedish death cleaning, or döstädning, popularized by Margareta Magnusson in her book The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning. The idea is sort through your possessions while you’re still alive, rather than leaving your loved ones to deal with everything after you’re gone.

We’ve spent generations accumulating possessions to pass down, but perhaps one of the greatest gifts our parents can give us is the freedom not to inherit everything.

There’s a similar philosophy in the Japanese practice of danshari, which emphasizes letting go of our attachment to material possessions, an idea that also echoes Buddhist teachings on impermanence.

For my mom, the process felt particularly emotional. Going through decades of belongings became a reflection on her own life and mortality. Her injury had already forced her to confront a future that looked very different from the one she’d imagined, and now she was physically sorting through the objects that represented so much of her past.

But there was comfort in it, too.

She told me it gave her solace knowing that I would be starting a new chapter in the house. That I had the energy to maintain it, renovate it, and give it the attention that she and my dad no longer could.

While she was coming to terms with letting go of one chapter of her life, she could watch me begin another in the very same place.

And perhaps that’s another way to think about generational wealth. Not just passing down property or possessions, but giving something you’ve spent a lifetime building the opportunity to become something new.

Of course, some things were harder to part with than others.

Which brings me to my mother’s jewelry collection.

What is a memory worth?

My grandmother came from a family of jewelers and watchmakers, so my mother’s collection was extensive.

When my parents decided to move to Switzerland, it became an opportunity to go through these family heirlooms together and discuss how they might be passed down.

There’s something surreal about watching a family’s belongings move between countries while the family itself is adjusting to a new reality.

There were watches, necklaces, bracelets, and pieces that had been in the family for generations. Some were valuable in the conventional sense. Others held their value in memories.

Among the collection were pieces connected to my grandparents, including jewelry bearing their fingerprints. I kept thinking about how strange it was to assign monetary values to objects like these.

How do you compare a luxury watch with a piece of jewelry carrying the fingerprint of someone you’ll never see again?

One has a relatively straightforward resale value. The other is impossible to replace.

And yet, when families discuss how to pass down possessions, they often need some way to account for both.

Jewelry is an especially peculiar form of inheritance because it exists somewhere between an asset and a memory. A watch can be a financial investment, a fashion statement, and a family heirloom all at once. Its worth depends on whom you ask.

Sometimes the things we value aren’t especially valuable at all.

The experience has made me realize how complicated it can be to put a price on something with a personal history.

And I understand now why discussions about inheritance aren’t always just about money. Sometimes they’re about what an object represents, or who gets to hold on to a particular memory.

Can AI write a will?

Another detail from The Guardian article caught my attention: the growing market for AI-generated wills.

On the surface, it makes sense. We’re asking AI to help us write emails, negotiate contracts, manage finances, and make major life decisions. Why not ask it to write our wills?

But there’s something unsettling about the idea of leaving behind one of the most consequential documents of your life in words that aren’t entirely your own.

A will might legally establish who gets the house, the jewelry, or the money. But it can’t necessarily explain the emotions, memories, or reasoning behind those decisions.

And if the language was generated by AI, how do the people left behind know which choices and explanations genuinely came from the person making the will?

Of course, professionally drafted wills aren’t necessarily written in the person’s own words either. But it raises an interesting question about how we preserve intent in an increasingly AI-mediated world.

When someone dies we also inherit the task of interpreting their decisions.

Most estate-planning advice encourages families to have difficult conversations before it’s too late. Having gone through the process myself, I understand why. But I also understand why so many families avoid it.

Talking about inheritance forces everyone to confront uncomfortable realities: that parents are aging, that circumstances can change overnight, that family members may have different ideas about fairness, and that money has an extraordinary ability to complicate already emotional decisions.

I’m grateful that my parents have been able to participate in these conversations, answer questions, and explain their wishes in their own words. Not every family gets that opportunity.

And while having these conversations early hasn’t necessarily made them easier, I still believe there’s value in having them.

The irony is that none of this began with anyone dying. It began with a family trying to adjust to a future none of us had anticipated.

What we actually inherit

I recently returned from visiting my parents in Switzerland.

After months of discussions about property, trusts, and family possessions, I got to spend time with my mom. To be with her, share ordinary moments, and make new memories in a place that has unexpectedly become part of this next chapter of her life.

We took a train, bus, funicular, and the world’s only open-top cable car to go on an accessible hike at Stanserhorn, and my mom was able to do it all with us.

And it reminded me of something I’ve nearly lost sight of in all these conversations about inheritance.

Generational wealth is also the experiences, relationships, and time we get with the people who came before us.

I think about how lucky I am to have been paired with my mom in this lifetime. That of all the people I could have been born to, I got her. That despite everything our family has been through, I still get to spend these years with her.

Her injury has changed our lives in ways none of us expected. And I can’t pretend that the financial and emotional complications haven’t been difficult.

But I’m aware that the most valuable things my mom has given me aren’t necessarily the things I’ll one day inherit.

The Great Wealth Transfer is often discussed as an economic event, a historic redistribution of money from one generation to the next. But experiencing it firsthand has made me reconsider what wealth actually means.

We’ve spent so much time thinking about how possessions and financial assets can be divided, accounted for, and documented.

And yet, the thing I’m most grateful to have inherited is something that can’t be divided at all: the chance to be her daughter, and the time we still have together

After binging Summer House this summer, I quickly became a Paige DeSorbo and Hannah Berner fan, which naturally led me to their Giggly Squad podcast. As the self-proclaimed queens of lying in bed, Paige and Hannah felt like they’d be particularly nonjudgmental of the fact that I had spent the hot summer months in Los Angeles lying in bed binging their show.

In a recent episode of their podcast, Paige brought up being outed by a fan who found, and published, her accidentally public Pinterest board dedicated to pixie cuts.

And after further digging, I found Paige isn’t the only one working up the courage to chop it all off, a big move when the fear of being chopped (as Gen Alpha and the chronically online say) is real.

Pinterest’s Summer 2026 Trend Report found searches for “pixie cut baddie” are up 1,855%, while “mixie pixie mullet” is up 1,385%.

Allure, citing Spate, reports that “pixie haircut” averages 1.1 million Google searches a month, alongside roughly 41.7 million weekly TikTok views. Google also reported that the “bixie,” the pixie’s slightly longer, bob-adjacent cousin, reached a record search high this year. Personally, I recommend the Italian bob for you, Paige, which is also trending. Very on brand.

And the pixie is undoubtedly already showing up on famous heads in 2026. Teyana Taylor has made the cut part of her signature look. On September 14, Zendaya walked the Emmys red carpet in a pixie cut. Her stylist, Law Roach, said the look was inspired by Halle Berry. Emma Stone spent much of the last year growing out the pixie that followed shaving her head for Bugonia.

The pixie is having a moment, and it always seems to arrive with a theory attached. So I went looking for the theory.

Is the pixie a recession indicator?

If everything is a recession indicator these days, could chopping off your hair be the latest sign that consumers are cutting back?

At first, the theory didn’t really hold up.

Unlike long hair, which can go months between appointments, pixies generally need to be reshaped every four to six weeks. Essence even pointed out the contradiction in its 2026 piece on recession beauty for Black women: Short hair may look like a move toward simplicity, but it’s actually one of the more high-maintenance hairstyles.

So my first hypothesis seemed to go down the drain.

Until I looked at an earlier pixie boom: 2008.

Rihanna’s iconic pixie that year was declared a cultural reset. Katie Holmes debuted hers in August. Then, on September 8, Victoria Beckham arrived at New York Fashion Week with her dramatically shorter “Posh crop.”

Exactly one week later, Lehman Brothers collapsed.

To be clear, there’s no evidence that Victoria Beckham cut her hair because she sensed an impending global financial crisis. Her hairstylist Garren actually described the haircut as a practical choice for her increasingly busy life. She could style it herself, and darkening her hair closer to its natural color also meant less time spent maintaining it.

But the timing gets even stranger.

Beckham debuted the pixie at Marc Jacobs’ Spring 2009 show, a collection that British Vogue described at the time as referencing, among other things, Depression-era style.

So, in September 2008, Victoria Beckham debuted a dramatically pared-back pixie at a runway show referencing Depression-era America, one week before Lehman Brothers collapsed and the financial crisis entered one of its most defining moments.

Coincidence? Probably. Interesting? Absolutely.

It’s also worth remembering that beauty already has a recession vocabulary. There’s the lipstick index, and there’s “recession blonde.” Both rest on the same idea: that economic anxiety changes how people spend and present themselves, rather than simply making them stop spending.

Maybe the pixie’s signal isn’t “I can’t afford my hair.” Maybe it’s “I don’t want all this hair.”

Less excess and less conspicuous glamour

Is it another Ozempic effect?

We’ve heard about “Ozempic face.” Now there’s “Ozempic hair.”

Emerging research has linked GLP-1 use with hair thinning and shedding, particularly in the context of rapid weight loss. And hairstylists are recommending shorter, textured cuts, including pixies, as one way to make thinning hair appear fuller.

Then there’s the face itself.

GLP-1s have rapidly changed our bodies, our consumer behavior and, arguably, our beauty ideals. We’ve already watched fashion cycle back through the 2000s, including the controversial return of thinness.

The pixie puts the face front and center. At a time when cheekbones are quite literally cheekboning again, I wonder if the haircut is benefiting from two GLP-1-era shifts at once: changing hair and changing faces.

I’m not claiming Ozempic is causing the pixie trend. But it does make me wonder whether short hair is one more unexpected aesthetic ripple of a much bigger shift in how we think about bodies and beauty.

Is the pixie anti male-gaze?

Long hair has long been coded as conventional femininity, a standard reinforced by many of the past two decades’ dominant beauty ideals, from Victoria’s Secret bombshell waves onward.

We’re not shown many women in the public eye who have very short hair but are also considered a sex symbol. Long hair has been associated with femininity for hundreds of years. That’s not something we can undo overnight.

— Rachael Gibson, the Hair Historian

So it’s tempting to call the pixie “anti-male-gaze.” Gibson has also linked short hair to women taking control of their appearance.

But that doesn’t quite fit. The pixie doesn’t reject being looked at; it just doesn’t optimize for everyone’s definition of attractive. That might be part of the appeal. The cut works as a filter—not just for men, but for anyone who expects femininity to look a certain way.

If a woman with very short hair is rarely framed as a sex symbol, then maybe the pixie’s real provocation isn’t rejecting the gaze. It’s declining to perform for it.

Are we finally tired of looking the same?

Algorithms have made it easier than ever to be force-fed what we’re supposed to want, and easier than ever to end up looking like everyone else. The same lip liner. The same viral bag. The same interior style.

But there seems to be growing value in personal taste. Personalized charms hanging from a designer bag. Vintage and handmade objects. Niche brands nobody knows yet. Homes that don’t all have the same Gen Z brown rug.

The pixie fits this shift because it inherently brings your face to the surface. A pixie on Twiggy doesn’t look like a pixie on Teyana Taylor. The less hair there is, the more the person wearing it becomes the look.

And when I looked at the women who defined the pixie throughout history, this idea kept coming up.

In 1988, Linda Evangelista agreed to cut her hair short at photographer Peter Lindbergh’s suggestion, with hairstylist Julien d’Ys doing the honors. She asked her mother, who reminded her that everybody has long hair. Milan’s reaction backed that up: she was booked for 20 shows, 16 canceled after clients saw the cut, and she walked four. She went on to shoot a Vogue Italia cover with Steven Meisel and later said the haircut quadrupled her rate. Hairstylist Garren has since called her “the first supermodel to cut all her hair off.”

As a young actress, Halle Berry kept showing up to auditions alongside other Black women with similar big, curly hair. She decided she needed to look different, so she cut it all off. Her manager warned her she’d never work. The first audition she went to after cutting her hair, she got the job.

Different decades and different women, but the pixie seems to reappear when looking distinctive becomes more valuable than looking conventional.

So, is the pixie trying to tell us something?

Again and again, the pixie became defining because it made the woman wearing it harder to overlook.

There’s a twist for 2026, though. The fastest-growing search term in the trend is literally called “pixie cut baddie.” Even our escape from sameness comes with a hashtag.

So is the pixie trying to tell us something?

Maybe just this: when everyone looks the same, the most valuable thing you can do is look like yourself.

Then the algorithm finds you anyway.