Back when I was in middle school, I remember begging my mom for a Hollister T-shirt for Christmas. Specifically, I wanted one where the logo was prominently displayed on the front, so people would know exactly where it was from. This was circa 2012, when models still danced shirtless in front of the store, enticing people to come in. (Yes, for all you Gen Alphas, this really *did* happen, and the worst part? It worked.) If the popular girls at school weren’t wearing Hollister, then you could reliably spot the brand on celebrities and YouTubers. It’s my first real memory of trying to “buy” my way into a seat at the cool kids’ table. When I wasn’t immediately befriended (shocking!), I continued my Gatsby/Dan Humphrey–esque lifestyle of observing the upper echelons of high society from the outside in. If I could just figure out the right clothes or makeup to buy, I’d be in—or so I believed.
These days, TikTok is the easy, one-stop stop for discovering every hot new “it” item. Want to be like your favourite influencers? Their TikTok page tells you exactly what yoga pants to wear, which foundation to use, and even what showerheads to buy. Over the years, a Hollister T-shirt morphed into pillow pets, then an EOS lip balm, then a pair of platform UGGs, and now…a Stanley cup. ICYMI: Right before the holidays, thousands of people camped outside of Targets across the US for a chance to get their hands on Target-exclusive pink and red Stanley Quenchers that dropped on New Year’s Eve and are now sold out online. The quest to acquire the latest status symbol is relentless and, frankly, more impossible than ever. And guys, I’m sick of it! It took a water bottle going viral (and causing IRL fights in Targets across the country) to really put it into perspective for me—because honestly, how on earth did we let it get this far?! How did we lose our minds trying to get our hands on a giant metallic mug?
“The quest to acquire the latest status symbol is relentless and, frankly, more impossible than ever”
The idea of an emotional support water bottle is, of course, nothing new. I, too, need exactly three drinks in my beverage rotation throughout the day, including a big cup of cold water. But the Stanley cup craze managed to reach new heights of absurdity. What started as a cup meant for *checks notes* blue-collar workers and WWII pilots (seriously!) is now an obsession for millennial mums and sorority sisters. You can’t go one “day in the life” video without seeing an influencer walking around with a Stanley cup—even Olivia Rodrigo shared that she fell victim to the influencing of it all.
For the record, this is not me shitting on Stanleys—they’re cute! And durable. Part of what helped Stanley take off over Christmas was a viral TikTok of a woman showing the aftermath of her wrecked car, which had blown up in flames but still had a fully intact Stanley cup with unmelted ice in the cupholder.
But it was never just about buying a good quality cup. The way many see it, for a measly $45, a Stanley cup is an investment in your proximity to coolness. You can also purchase a range of accessories for your coveted mug, including fun straw toppers and even cross-body shoulder straps for the bottles. Of course, the yassification of your Stanley cup wouldn’t be complete without making content about it. Because if you didn’t post about it, did it even happen? You can see how this creates an endless hype feedback loop: Content begets content, which begets more content until it’s all you see on your FYP.
Look, I’m literally a shopping editor so I’m all for letting people buy things that bring them joy (it’s essentially the whole premise of my job). And the same people who it seems I am wagging my finger at would probably tell me that I didn’t need to see Harry Styles six times in one year, and you know what, they’d be right! That’s capitalism, baby. As hard as we try, most of us will inevitably spend our money on incredibly dumb shit, if only to stave off our existential dread. But letting our silly little purchases define us is almost always a symptom of wanting to belong to a community, of wanting to cultivate a certain identity, and it’s only gotten worse since TikTok practically gave us a road map to achieving just that.
The truth is, it’s always going to boil down to a never-ending cycle of hyper-consumerism unless we give ourselves a reality check every once in a while. It will always be just one more lipstick, one more purse, one more cleanser, and one more Stanley Cup. So next time you’re debating whether you should clobber that woman in line for that thing you must have, take a breath and think about what you’re really chasing. (And if it’s still just about the lipstick/purse/cleanser/cup, then godspeed.)
"Letting our silly little purchases define us is almost always a symptom of wanting to belong to a community"
I recently saw a video of a 9-year-old screeching with joy as she unwrapped a Stanley cup for her birthday. She just might become the most well-hydrated child on planet Earth. I’m sure there are many other kids who got a precious Stanley for the holidays, and the idea of them going back to school with their cup in hand takes me back to my own Hollister T-shirt days. It’s a rite of passage for children, it seems. The game will always be the same, but I hope for our sake—and for the next generation—we let them know there’s more to life than a damn cup.
