First, it was trousers — low-rise and tight, or high-rise and baggy? Then, it was socks — ankle or crew? Now, another generational style divide is emerging, this time in the gym. On TikTok, a quiet fashion skirmish is playing out in activewear, with Gen Z increasingly side-eyeing the ultra-fitted sets that defined millennial workout style.
In a series of viral videos using a popular ‘approved’ audio clip, users rate their gym outfits. And the verdict is clear: for many younger creators, the once-coveted tight-on-tight silhouette is starting to feel outdated, “middle school” even.
Search data suggests this shift is more than just a passing TikTok fad. “Searches for ‘baggy gym outfits’ on Pinterest have risen over 400 per cent in the past year, predominantly among 18 to 24-year-olds (58 per cent),” says Molly Rooyakkers, founder of data-driven fashion account Style Analytics. Interestingly, the trend appears to be highly localised to the US — a reminder that even digital fashion discourse often plays out along regional lines. Still, Rooyakkers argues Pinterest is a strong indicator of long-term interest. “It’s where people go to plan their future wardrobes. So this data tells us baggy gymwear isn’t just a fleeting aesthetic — it’s something people are looking to wear, style and buy.”
Retailers are seemingly already taking notice. In 2022, oversized activewear made up 84 per cent of stock online, according to retail intelligence firm EDITED. That figure has since dropped to 65 per cent, while looser bottoms and outerwear are on the rise, up 50 per cent year-on-year. “Nike, one of Gen Z’s favourite brands, is leaning in hard,” says EDITED retail analyst Krista Corrigan. “They’re now the leading supplier of women’s oversized activewear silhouettes.”
Meanwhile, the era of leggings may be losing its grip. In 2021, leggings accounted for 47 per cent of activewear bottoms across major retailers. Today, that number has fallen to 32 per cent, as wide-leg trousers, joggers and even skirts begin to muscle in, according to data provided by EDITED. “Activewear and fashion are becoming increasingly intertwined,” says Corrigan. “We’re seeing fashion retailers introduce performance styles, while sportswear brands are experimenting with more trend-led silhouettes.”
So what’s really driving this stylistic shift? Is it simply a pendulum swing of taste, or does it reflect something deeper about how Gen Z sees themselves — and their bodies — in the world?
What’s behind the generational split?
Part of the shift may stem from how Gen Z relates to fitness itself. “For millennials, working out was often tied to a broader lifestyle — something aspirational, something curated on Instagram,” says Corrigan. “For Gen Z, it’s more integrated into their daily routine. It’s not just about being fit; it’s part of who they are.” She adds that exercise is less of a performance and more of a personal practice, woven into everyday life rather than projected as a lifestyle brand.
This more integrated approach is accompanied by a growing emphasis on comfort, autonomy and self-expression. “Millennials were still shaped by the ‘beauty is pain’ mentality — inherited rules about how to dress and for what occasion,” says Marsha Lindsay, founder of Nobu Pilates, who confirms she’s been noticing this divide in her classes. “Gen Z has grown up in a more inclusive environment. Dressing for confidence and individuality is more important than wearing a uniform.”
This mindset affects how they dress. While millennial consumers often gravitate towards coordinated sets and polished looks — the ‘put-together’ aesthetic — Gen Z leans into contrast. “I see a more playful attitude among younger clients,” continues Lindsay. “They’re mixing silhouettes, wearing clashing colours and embracing a more relaxed approach to what gymwear can look like.”
It ties into Gen Z’s wider desire for uniqueness through personalisation, as seen via the chaotic customisation trend that’s been dominating the discourse, adds Corrigan.
The preference for looser fits may also reflect broader cultural concerns. As Rooyakkers notes, viral videos of women being approached while working out have sparked conversations about modesty, boundaries and safety. “It’s possible that the popularity of baggier gymwear is, in part, a response to that,” she says.
How should brands tap in?
For activewear brands, the challenge is how to cater to two generations with diverging aesthetics without diluting their brand identity. “Brands like Lululemon are still rooted in sleek silhouettes, but they’ve expanded their offering to include more lounge and streetwear-inspired pieces,” says Corrigan. “It’s not necessarily about replacing one style with another, but about diversifying product lines and messaging.”
Even subtle shifts in product naming or styling can help brands appeal to both audiences. “We’re seeing brands describe pieces differently depending on the consumer they’re targeting,” she adds. “It’s about speaking to varied identities, not just aesthetics.”
Another way to cater to these emerging differences is through partnering with other brands. For example, Nike’s recent partnership with Skims and On’s collaboration with Loewe opened up the sportswear giants to different styles, Corrigan says.
A softening divide
Generational tension in style isn’t new. Millennials themselves once mocked boomer fashion, rolling their eyes at skinny eyebrows and low-rise jeans before eventually re-embracing them. What’s different now is the visibility of that cycle. Thanks to TikTok and other platforms, generational critique and cultural nostalgia play out in real time, with side-by-side comparisons, duets and deep-dive trend analyses.
“On TikTok, everyone has a platform to make their voice heard, which can be a good thing. But it also becomes an echo chamber,” agrees Corrigan. “It can make something feel bigger than it is — everyone weighing in with ‘yes to this trend, no to that trend’ — whereas we didn’t necessarily have that before.”
And amid that constant churn, something interesting is happening: a softening of hard generational lines. With content saturation at an all-time high, as 80 per cent of Gen Zs agree that they are exposed to more brands and advertising than any other generation, according to Archrival, younger audiences are rediscovering early-2010s culture — shows like Gossip Girl, Girls and Skins are finding renewed relevance. What once felt cringe worthy is now being reinterpreted through fresh eyes.
“There’s a growing openness to past trends, including millennial ones,” says Corrigan. “We call it a ‘nostalgia remix’ — a blending of influences across decades and categories.” For example, these days you might see an ’80s element mixed with Y2K, or flared leggings from the 2000s styled with an oversized anorak or a sports jersey on social media feeds. “It’s cherry-picking, remixing and using fashion as a form of creative expression,” Corrigan says, adding that for Gen Z, it’s less about following a particular look and more about personal curation — blending not only eras, but gendered fashion norms, too. “There’s no rigid structure anymore. It’s very fluid.”
“What goes viral is often the most extreme takes, but in real life, it feels like there’s room for both styles to coexist,” agrees millennial fitness creator Stephanie Zambrana. “This manner of dressing should be for the sake of one’s feelings and comfort and not stemming from a mindset of online influence.”
It’s this remix culture where generational style tension may ultimately dissolve; not into one shared look, but into a shared ethos of individuality and experimentation.
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