What Your Instagram Aesthetic Says About You

You've got one. I've got one. Here’s a comprehensive guide to exactly what it says about your entire personality and way of life.
Daisy Jones
London, GB
Hannah Ewens
London, GB
Image by Emily Bowler

This article originally appeared on VICE UK.

Curating the perfect Instagram profile is an impossible balancing act. If you don't come across generally attractive, you have to at least come across cool, or like you have your shit together. You have to pretend you have other interests beyond going to the bar and scrolling through Instagram. You have to seem like you party sometimes in a "I have lots of friends with different haircuts" way, and not a "I clearly have a ketamine problem and can barely hold my life together—please reach out in the DMs" way. The grid has to have decent colors; no one wants to scroll through sludge. Or hashtags. Or emojis.


Of, course there are people out there—nice, regular, genuinely secure people—who opt out of these pressures. This piece isn't for you. Go back to IG-ing your dog walks and #dinnersfortwo. As for the rest of you, please read on.

Really, everyone's IG aesthetic can be loosely divided into a few basic categories.

Lots of pastel pink, dyed armpit hair, photos of your digital art zine on silk or fluffy fabric

You write "beauty standards r boring" beneath a close-up of your flat stomach because it has three hairs below your bellybutton. "Cellulite is cute," you write, beneath a mirror selfie of your perfectly round, sculpted ass. "If ur in Brooklyn tonite, come down 2 my show" you write, beneath a pic of you and someone from PC Music in baby blue puffer jackets. Your show is a large white room covered in your own nudes, with recordings of you reading WhatsApp chats aloud. You have probably been on the Dazed 100.

Entirely monochrome street photographer with white borders, There are no pics of you apart from one two years ago wearing a tiny black roll beanie

You are a straight white dude named Charlie who got a Nikon DSLR from your grandma for Christmas.

You are in basically every post—laughing, loving, living— on vacation, at music festivals in cafes…

You're one or more or all of the following: fashion blogger/influencer/activist/model/DJ. Each image of you looking over your sunglasses has been through ten filter and grid symmetry apps to get to this point. Most captions are either full of hashtags—"Wow what an unforgettable gig at #TheO2. Have always been a massive fan of having a caffeine boost—thanks @Alpro!—before a show and thank God I could see thanks to these new cat eye frames #ShouldveGoneToSpecsavers #ad"—or start or finish with a vague Queer Eye or Drag Race reference.

You wonder if a paid partnership post with KFC is problematic when you're a UK size six, but they're offering a grand… so, probably fine? Most of your low-level anxiety centers around the three A's: Authenticity, Algorithms, and Alfie. You and the boyfriend have scheduled sex once a month—dependent on DJ sets and early morning brand breakfasts in Central. You spend most of that 20 minutes relaxing by thinking about how you’ve nearly saved for a house. Yes, queen, work it!



All the above but without the tags

Wannabe blogger/an average woman.

Filterless, unsmiling mirror selfies of you in a turtleneck with slicked-back hair, obscure photos of random objects, a sculpture that looks like a pile of glop

You studied Fine Art at Goldsmiths. There was a rumor going around that you knowingly tried fentanyl. Someone else said you used to DJ at Berghain under the alias "trashy bb." Apparently, you are in a nonmonogamous relationship with a 37-year-old woman who is always "out of town." No one has ever heard you speak—apart from one person, who said you had an American accent, but it could have been Scandinavian. You are filthy rich.

Deliberately anti-aesthetic

You've never applied a filter. Your feed is all post-post-post-ironic memes involving early-90s cartoons, American household brands, and spelling mistakes. Someone not in the know would think they’d stumbled across a Facebook mom let loose on the gram. In a shitty posting 101 class, they’d show your selfies, horrible pasta, and back catalog of "ugly things you've seen in the street."

You haven’t had sex in a year, and lash out when women don’t want to go out with you. Older than you seem, you work in ads or branded content, but wake up face burning in the night about the time no one clapped at your spoken word reading. You have an alt Twitter account that only the guys know about. You hate astrology and anything that women like.


Ugly clothes, vintage designer sunglasses, prosecco at gallery openings, no filter aesthetic

You're a north London fashion girl with a moderate coke habit. Strangers spend minutes trying to understand why you look good in midrange designer clothes put together in ugly combos before realizing for the nth time it’s because you’re very thin. Aha! A lot of effort goes into looking this uncaring. You smoke Marlboro Reds and say you went to a state school, but really it was selective and politicians' kids went there.

Alt Feed

You could be any gender, the aesthetic is everything. Each post has been through VSCO twice. Every time you get a new tattoo you Instagram it. You take photos of all your vegan food and your knees in the park next to a book on theory. You thirst trap relentlessly and hide Instagram stories from your bosses. You swing between sobriety and being drunk all day. You love old pop punk and try to listen to new music but hate it. You probably work in east London, like, maybe at VICE or something. You have Mommy/Daddy issues, and you are as miserable as the normies.



You live with your parents in a semidetatched home in an urban center. You get told off by your mom fairly often for eating family packs of snacks she’s bought for the week. You think women with pubes are gross but your long suffering girlfriend has to remind you to use cotton swabs.


You smoke weed all day because you took a year off (for mental health/life reasons) from a half-finished sociology degree. You masturbate with very expensive vibrators and spend most of your freelance money on expensive underwear and novelty vapes.

Unbelievable cheekbones, mesh tank tops, septum piercing, hot men holding cute dogs, stick 'n' poke of an obscure cult figure like Tammy Faye

You're gay.

All slightly different filters: hand holding a pint, Tinder portrait taken by a friend on a 30MM, a crème brûlée, parents' dog, a rare photo of your girlfriend at restaurants captioned 'This one'

Bless, you are trying your best, but it's a bit all over the place. Your feed is just Peep Show references and a stream of seaside landscapes and beer gardens with friends. You're pretty pleased when you go on vacation because it gives you a chance to smash out a ton of IG pics before a month of silence. Modern masculinity, NOT easy.


Days out at the park, some nice risotto that you made with a smug/horny face emoji, sweating after going for a run

You have no agenda; you are comfortable with yourself. You are 35 and own a dog. Career on the go. You smile with teeth in pictures. You’ve never done a thirst trap. Imagine.

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