Tiktok’s Scandinavian Aesthetic

This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Columbia Barnard chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.

South Asian cultural appropriation has been with us for centuries. The surge of so-called “Scandinavian” and “Bohemian” aesthetics is the Western media’s way of repackaging cultural items rooted in South Asian clothing, jewelry, silhouettes, and textiles. Big designer brands like Prada, designers like Pieter Mulier with their phola puri sandals and balloon pants, and major fashion chains like Zara, Shein, Oh Polly, and H&M have all jumped on the bandwagon of cultural erasure and appropriation.

This rise became especially visible around the summer of 2024, as the “Scandinavian scarf” appeared in the collections of nearly every major fashion chain. The item in question was remarkably similar (if not a complete replica) of the traditional Indian garment dupatta (also known as orna or chunni), a longstanding fashion staple in South Asian closets. The shawl is traditionally part of a larger ensemble, such as a lehenga or salwar kameez, and is typically worn across the neck, covering the chest and down the back. It can also be draped over the head as a veil, or ghoonghat, often worn in temples or by some married Hindu and Jain women.

A more recent instance of this trend appeared in the Spring/Summer 2025 Alia show, which presented its take on “balloon pants,” overwriting the Pakistani shalwar, a part of the national garment of Pakistan worn by women, the shalwar kameez. The shalwar is a trouser, fitted at the waist and ankles with a loose, pleated silhouette and is typically paired with a kameez, which is a long, loose shirt with a prominent collar. The outfit originated in Central and West Asia and was introduced to South Asia through the Islamic trade, eventually coming to be known as the attire of Mughuls. Today, it is worn across Pakistan, Punjab, India, Bangladesh, and other regions of South Asia and its diasporas around the world.

What makes this problematic is not the trends themselves. South Asians often welcome cultural appreciation, given the hospitality and pride rooted in their culture. The issue lies in its manner–exploitative, ignorant, and discrediting–and the harmful narratives these trends promote. We are imitating a culture, suggesting it is harmless or even acceptable to dismiss non-Western traditions and clothing. Simultaneously, we are outsourcing labor to the very countries whose cultures are being appropriated, often under poor working conditions and low wages. This forces people to either unknowingly or unwillingly contribute to the erasure of their own cultural heritage through consumption by Western fashion brands and designers. The very communities whose culture is being extracted are simultaneously exploited on deeper economic and systemic levels. According to the International Labor Organization, Bangladesh’s garment manufacturing industry made up $31.46 billion out of $38.76 billion of the country’s export earnings in FY 2020-21.

We must critically examine the impact our participation in these trends has on the marginalized communities we borrow from. The nature of trends is cyclical; they rise and fade. But when a trend goes out of fashion, what happens to the people whose culture was once in the mainstream spotlight? Do they return to facing the same hardships as before? Consider, for example, my parents’ generation: immigrants who were ostracized and shunned for wearing the very same garments in public that are now considered fashionable. Let us not dismiss the public condemnation they faced simply because their culture was not then part of the fashion cycle. Real change starts from each and every one of us. Next time you participate in a trend, do your due diligence!