Breaking down the messy politics of the ‘It-girl’ and what being one really means today

If I had a dime for every time I came across an “It-girl approved” caption on Instagram or TikTok, I would probably be able to afford most of those so-called It-girl essentials—a luxury holiday, a cult beauty buy, a fad diet, or whatever obsession has been declared the thing of the moment. Then I stop to think about the term "It-girl". Who came up with it? Who decided it was a thing? And who was it that first started the trend? 

Back in the ’90s, we had icons like Alicia Silverstone and Jennifer Aniston, who were the fashion It-girls, even though Naomi Campbell and Kate Moss ruled fashion runways. Drew Barrymore’s sweet charm and Winona Ryder’s grunge-glam made both of them the most relatable It-girls, especially with their respective films like Never Been Kissed, The Wedding Singer, Beetlejuice, and The Age of Innocence. By the early 2000s, Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, Avril Lavigne, Hilary Duff, and Eva Longoria were setting the tone, each representing a different vibe of aspirational cool. Of course, there’s more where these came from.

The point is, every decade has its reigning It-girls—arbiters of style, beauty, lifestyle, and beyond. We could even go as far as to call them influencers, even though the term wasn’t in our vocabulary back then. And with each new era, the title was passed on, giving us new It-girls who came along with a new set of aspirations to live up to. The Pilates queen of the 2010s, the matcha enthusiast of the 2020s, and now the Labubu collectors of 2025, the definition keeps evolving. From carrying tiny Chihuahuas in Dior saddlebags to collecting Stanley cups and lugging around giant Birkins, the criteria seem to change with every scroll. But with all these shifting trends—and all the people adopting them so easily thanks to the internet—one question remains: in a world where virality trumps legacy, does the title of It-girl still hold the same weight?

The origins

The earliest reference to the It-girl can be traced back to 1927, when British novelist Elinor Glyn wrote a book titled It, where “It” was described as “that quality possessed by some which draws all others with its magnetic force.” The story was later adapted into a silent film of the same name, starring Clara Bow, who went on to become the most iconic It-girl of the 1920s. If the name sounds familiar, it’s because she was the woman who inspired Taylor Swift’s song 'Clara Bow’ from her album The Tortured Poets Department.

So, while Glyn is credited with coining the term "It-girl," Bow embodied it. But Glyn’s book and the film framed the essence of the It-girl as an irresistible aura rather than a single object or fleeting trend. And up until the ’90s, this trend was honoured with It-girls who had an aura that made them so appealing to the audiences. Think Marilyn Monroe, who during the ’50s and ’60s was considered the ultimate It-girl. She seemed like a sex symbol on the surface, but in reality, she was so much more than that. She had glamour, style, personality, and scandal, unafraid to speak her mind and demand respect in a male-dominated industry that tried to reduce her to the “dumb blonde” stereotype. And boy, did she make an impact. She is someone we look up to even today. We also had Audrey Hepburn, who offered a strikingly different aesthetic of the It-girl. She was graceful and elegant, and presented a more feminine ideal compared to the voluptuous beauty standards of that era.

These women proved that being an It-girl wasn’t just about how you looked; it was about the kind of impact you left behind. They set the stage for future generations, but also created an almost impossible standard of allure, one that later decades would begin to reinterpret.

How the "exclusive" factor changes the meaning 

What started as an aura eventually turned into something more tangible—something expensive and far less accessible. By the late ’90s and early 2000s, being an It-girl was about what you wore, where you vacationed, and most importantly, who you were seen with. The aura was still there, but now it came accompanied by Birkin bags, black American Express cards, and a guaranteed seat in the front row at Fashion Week. Exclusivity was the currency. Owning what others couldn’t—even if it was just the latest Juicy tracksuit or a new Fendi purse—was what cemented your status. The mystique of the It-girl lay in the fact that she gave us a glimpse into her glamorous world, one we could admire but never truly enter.

There was no social media back then, but that didn’t stop the obsession from growing. We had glossy magazines, gossip columns, red carpets, and the relentless paparazzi to feed the It-girl phenomenon. Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie, for instance, had their every Starbucks run, night out, and outfit change photographed, published, and dissected. Tabloids told us what bag they carried, what they wore to brunch, and even what they fought about. That constant coverage didn’t just keep us watching—it solidified the idea that an It-girl was someone to be admired, followed, and emulated.

The TikTok takeover

By the time we reached the 2010s, social media, and later TikTok, were rewriting the rules. You no longer needed an LA zip code or family fortune to be the aspirational It-girl, because now, all it took was WiFi, a ring light camera, and the right algorithm push. Messy bedrooms, iced coffee runs, and “get ready with me” videos became the new calling cards. And it gave us some pretty memorable icons, too. 

Alix Earle, with her slightly unfiltered but stylish get-ready-with-me videos, made her a Gen Z household name, alongside Emma Chamberlain, who turned her offbeat humour and vintage-inspired style into her own personal brand. Meanwhile, the celebrity-driven It-girl has never really disappeared. The Kardashians, the Hadid sisters, and Hailey Bieber dominate the cultural conversation just as much as any viral creator. Whether it’s the former's carefully curated fashion moments, the sisters' runway-to-Instagram influence, or Bieber’s street style meets high-fashion appeal, these women show that the It-girl title today can come from heritage, fame, or sheer social media mastery, and sometimes all three at once. They’re proof that being an It-girl now straddles both traditional celebrity culture and the digital age, blending old-school allure with algorithmic savvy.

Closer to home, we had voices like Masoom Minawala and Diipa Büller-Khosla, who redefined the It-girl archetype for many South Asians.

Minawala went from documenting her everyday looks to becoming a regular at Cannes and international fashion weeks, showing how digital influence can turn into global recognition. Büller-Khosla, on the other hand, combined content creation with activism and entrepreneurship, acting as a voice for diversity, representation, and purpose in fashion.

Together, these women prove that the It-girl mantle is no longer restricted to lineage or exclusive access. Instead, it’s built on vision, consistency, and digital savvy. Today, the right Instagram reel, whether it’s about a ₹3,000 lipstick or a couture gown, can generate as much cultural buzz as a glossy fashion campaign. This only goes to show that the modern It-girl is both aspirational and accessible, and more importantly, she’s just one viral video away. And that very accessibility is what makes her feel so relevant today.

But the reality is that today’s It-girl isn’t just born into that status; she’s manufactured into it. Earlier, fashion magazines crowned an It-girl by putting her on the cover. Today, it’s fashion houses, PR agencies, and beauty brands that have become the new gatekeepers. From seeding viral moments through gifting and collaborations to algorithm-savvy campaigns, they’re turning every post, product, and partnership into a carefully crafted moment designed to go viral. The exclusivity hasn’t disappeared, of course, it’s just been repackaged as “limited edition drops” and TikTok-friendly launches.

The messy politics of the It-girl

This brings us back to the contradictions at the heart of the It-girl. She’s supposed to be relatable, yet aspirational. Democratic, yet exclusive. Viral, yet carefully manufactured. What once signified cultural coolness has, in many ways, become shorthand for marketability, a kind of monetisable visibility that brands and algorithms can spin into gold.

So, does being an It-girl still mean what it once did? Maybe not. But perhaps that’s the point. The allure of the It-girl has always been about capturing the zeitgeist, and in an era where identity itself feels like a curated feed, the term reflects the very contradictions we live with every day.

Lead image: Getty Images 
 

Also read: Who, truly, is an influencer? 

Also read: Could the viral ‘very demure’ trend be a reminder to not take things too seriously?