This is part 3 of a multi-chapter trend report by Berlin-based creative impact studio Very Good Looking, uncovering some of the cultural undercurrents influencing how especially young audiences will react to marketing efforts and impact-driven storytelling in 2026 and beyond.
If you haven’t read Part 1 and Part 2 yet, it’s best to start there.
The Villain Era
In the last installment of this series, we talked about the decline of moral idealism and “woke” activism. About the burnout and cultural backlash against these idealistic pursuits, and how it planted the idea, especially in younger generations, that being “the good guy” doesn’t pay off.
But it goes further than that. Intriguingly, alongside the decline in overt idealism is a rise in people playfully — or sometimes earnestly — leaning into a “bad” or selfish persona.
On social media, especially TikTok, young adults started to jokingly declare they are entering their “villain era.” Far from literally endorsing evil, this trend is about rejecting people-pleasing and prioritizing one’s own needs. At least on the surface.
The villain era meme, which went viral in 2022–2023, encourages those (especially young women) who always put others first, to start setting boundaries — even if it means being seen as the “bad guy.” The villain era is an intentional decision to prioritize personal interests over the priorities of others, a backlash against the pressure to be selflessly good. By invoking a tongue-in-cheek “dark side” to their externalized character, people give themselves permission to say no, pursue their own goals, or even adopt a bolder, less empathetic attitude without guilt.1
This pop-cultural trope resonates so widely because many feel that niceness and idealism haven’t yielded the promised happiness, so why not try being a bit bad? The very phrase “villain era” — half-joke, half-manifesto — captures a generational mood that being overly good or earnest is a sucker’s game, whereas embracing a hint of selfishness or “dark feminine” energy is empowering.
And there are variations.
The most playful one might be the Charli XCX-induced “brat summer”, a 2024 Gen-Z viral trend that was about embracing an unapologetically messy and confident attitude, featuring (what can only be called) “slimy green” as key color, combined with Y2K-inspired fashion choices and questionable personal hygiene.
The Guardian called the accompanying Charli XCX album “recession pop”, and the “brat girl” a counter-trend to the “Clean girl — a TikTok aesthetic whose followers wear their hair in slick buns, dress in pink, (and) have 10 reusable cups lined up. (…) They all have pink yoga mats; they love being clean; they love opening their journal after a long day of pilates. They love overconsumption. Clean girl buys 400 pairs of leggings. Brat retaliation is that you wear the same dress every day for a month and don’t shower.”2
Other variations feel more threatening to cultural and societal achievements like gender equality and women’s rights.
Gender Roles in Retrograde
They include the “tradwife” (short for traditional wife), who assumes the subordinate role of running the household while the man is out in the world providing. Or her evil cousin, the “mobwife”, which embraces Sopranos-style fashion and beauty codes and signals that it apparently doesn’t matter how exactly the man provides. In the same category is “RichTok”, which is basically content showing off a wildly unrealistic life of immense wealth, mostly provided, unsurprisingly, by the man of the house.
These trends are all different shades of the same general idea, which is the “embracing of adopting retrograde gender roles,” says brand strategist Eugene Healy on his Instagram channel.
But does the massive engagement these formats have been receiving on social media actually translate into serious buy-in by the audience? Unlikely.
“We’re consuming our desires, acted out for us.”
According to Healy, social media platforms have increasingly become a source of fiction for younger generations: “What we are consuming is our desires being acted out. Both tradwife and RichTok represent a fantasy of economic stability, of a life with a clearly defined role and purpose.”3 And these trends, too, have a retaliation-component: “They serve as an effective countermeasure against the disaster of ‘millennial girl boss feminism’ that sold an unrealistic expectation of the woman having it all — the career, the social life, the family — and heaping failure onto them if they couldn’t keep up.”
Beyond internet memes, there’s evidence that audiences are gravitating toward darker or anti-hero narratives in entertainment, as well. Surveys find that a majority of Americans now admit they often root for the villain in movies and TV — 51% said they “always or often” side with the villain over the hero, according to one 2022 poll.4
None of this means people suddenly support evil in real life, of course. But it reflects a fascination with more complex, morally gray characters rather than idealized heroes. In fact, Gen Z reports finding villains more relatable than traditional heroes in some cases, seeing villain stories as “more realistic” portrayals of a flawed world.5
Fragile Masculinity Entered the Chat
The popularity of anti-hero figures in pop culture (from the Joker to TV antiheroes) speaks to an undercurrent where “good guys” are viewed as naïve or hypocritical, while “bad guys” are seen as honest about how harsh life can be. Online, edgy influencers have tapped into this vibe as well — sometimes to an extreme.
Controversial figures in the “manosphere,” for example, openly champion Machiavellian tactics, unapologetic selfishness, or aggressive alpha behavior, garnering huge followings of young men.
“A villainous flair has become aspirational due to feeling exploited by older generations.”
The real-life consequences of that influencer sub-genre have wide, political consequences. As Gavin Newsom, Governor of California, recently said in an interview on the Ezra Klein show, explaining the success of the Trump presidential campaign: “[The Democratic Party] has completely neglected this space […]. We haven’t been organizing young men. We haven’t been addressing their societal screams, their concerns. Their suicide rate — four times that of women. Their dropout rates. Their depths of despair. We have men who are suffering, and it’s hurting women.”6
In summary, where young women tend to embrace ironic viral trends to act out fantasies of financial stability or protest against gender role dictates, the success of manosphere influencers shows that particularly disaffected young men find appeal in messaging that rejects empathy and celebrates “taking what you can get” — essentially glorifying an “evil side” as a form of power or freedom.
For both, flaunting a villainous flair has, in certain circles, become aspirational. It’s become less stigmatized to say “I want to put myself first, even if it makes me the villain in someone’s story,” because many feel that being the self-sacrificing hero only left them exploited or disappointed by older generations.
So, where do we go from here?
In the next chapters, we will look at who is part of this shift and what the global economic and political drivers are — all to uncover what purpose-driven brands can do to address this paradigm shift.
