8 things middle-class people wear on vacation that scream 'attention-seeking' (without them realizing it)

I watched it happen in real-time at a resort in Cabo last spring. A woman spent forty-five minutes setting up the perfect poolside shot—adjusting her oversized hat seventeen times, arranging her designer-knockoff beach bag just so, making her husband take photos from twelve different angles. She never actually went in the pool.

That's when it hit me: middle-class vacations have become performance art. We're not just taking trips anymore; we're creating content to prove we deserve to be there. Every outfit is chosen not for comfort or even style, but for maximum "I'm on vacation and you're not" impact.

After spending way too much time in airport lounges and resort pools observing (and yes, being guilty of) these fashion choices, I've identified the eight items that scream "I need you to know I'm having an amazing time."

1. The brand-new resort wear that still has creases from the package

You can spot them immediately—the linen pants with perfect fold lines, the pristine white cover-up that's never seen sunscreen, the sandals so new they're leaving blisters. Everything purchased specifically for this trip, probably in one frantic Nordstrom Rack haul the week before.

Upper-class people wear beat-up Havaianas and a faded sarong from a trip to Bali five years ago. Lower-income folks pack what they already own. But middle-class vacationers? We buy entire "tropical wardrobes" we'll wear exactly once, because regular clothes aren't special enough for vacation. The tags might be off, but everything screams "I bought this specifically so you'd know I'm somewhere fabulous."

2. Multiple "beach jewelry" pieces worn simultaneously

Ankle bracelets, toe rings, layered shell necklaces, those temporary metallic tattoos that were trendy in 2016—all worn at once like vacation merit badges. I once saw a woman at a Cancun resort wearing so much "beach jewelry" she literally jingled when she walked.

The thing is, actual beach people—surfers, locals, anyone who really lives this lifestyle—wear maybe one simple piece that won't get tangled in seaweed. But middle-class vacationers treat the beach like a fashion show, loading up on every tropical-themed accessory Target sells. It's giving "I Pinterest-searched 'beach vacation outfit' and bought everything."

3. That one designer item (or convincing fake) worn constantly

The Louis Vuitton beach tote that never touches sand. The Gucci sunglasses worn at dinner, indoors. The Golden Goose sneakers at the pool. That one luxury item—real or replica—that gets worked into every single outfit because you need everyone to see it.

I knew someone who brought a Chanel bag to an all-inclusive resort in Mexico and carried it to the breakfast buffet. The desperation to justify the purchase (or to make people think you could make that purchase) overrides all logic. You're eating resort scrambled eggs, Sarah. The Chanel isn't changing that.

4. Matching vacation outfits with the entire family

Nothing says "I need Instagram to know we're happy" like forcing your teenage son into a white linen shirt to match Dad while Mom and daughter wear coordinating tropical prints. I've seen entire families in matching Hawaiian shirts looking miserable in 90-degree heat.

Rich families don't coordinate—they barely look like they're traveling together. But middle-class families treat vacation like a photo shoot they've been planning since January. The matching outfits aren't about family bonding; they're about proving you're the kind of family that takes vacations together. The kids' faces always tell the real story.

5. Statement cover-ups that never actually cover anything up

Those elaborate kimono-style cover-ups with tassels, embroidery, and strategic cutouts that cost more than the actual swimsuit. They're see-through, they don't protect from sun, and they're worn constantly—at the pool, at lunch, walking through the lobby.

It's not about function; it's about having a special "beach outfit" that signals you're not just swimming, you're "resorting." Meanwhile, it's 95 degrees and you're essentially wearing a decorative net. But it photographed well on that influencer, so here we are, sweating through our "effortless beach style."

6. Wedge heels at obviously inappropriate locations

Platform espadrilles on the beach. Wedge sandals at the ruins. Those cork heels everyone bought in 2019 worn to a snorkeling excursion. I watched a woman navigate ancient Mayan steps in 4-inch wedges because she needed her legs to look good in photos.

There's this middle-class vacation anxiety that says you can't just wear flip-flops because what if someone sees you? What if there's a nice restaurant? What if you run into someone from work? So you pack shoes that make zero sense for your actual activities, suffering through cobblestones and sand because looking "put together" on vacation is somehow crucial.

7. The "look at me doing yoga at sunrise" outfit

Matching yoga set in a bright color no one actually wears to real yoga. The specially purchased "meditation shawl." The mala beads that appeared for this trip only. Posted with captions about "finding myself" and "much-needed self-care."

You're doing warrior pose once for the photo, then heading straight to the breakfast buffet. Everyone knows it. You know it. But the performance of wellness—specifically vacation wellness—must be documented. Real yogis are practicing in old tank tops at 5 AM. You're performing self-care theater at 8 AM when the lighting is optimal.

8. Resort merchandise worn immediately

The minute they buy that "Sandals Jamaica" tank top or "Cabo 2024" hat, it's on their body and in every remaining photo. Nothing says "I want credit for this vacation forever" like immediately wearing the gift shop evidence.

It's the adult equivalent of wearing the band t-shirt to the concert—except you're wearing proof you could afford this resort, right now, while still at the resort. People who travel regularly never buy resort merch. But when this might be your only trip this year, you need that $45 tank top that proclaims it to everyone at home.

Final thoughts

Here's what I've realized: middle-class vacation fashion isn't really about fashion at all. It's about anxiety—the anxiety of spending money you saved all year, the anxiety of proving the vacation was worth it, the anxiety of showing you belong in these spaces.

We pack these attention-seeking outfits because we're terrified of being unremarkable. God forbid we just exist at a resort without documenting our resort-worthiness. We can't just take a vacation; we have to perform one.

The irony is that all this trying—the matching outfits, the new resort wear, the strategic accessories—actually signals the opposite of what we intend. Instead of looking like seasoned travelers, we look like what we are: people who are so excited to be on vacation that we bought a whole new personality for it.

Maybe next trip, we could try something radical: packing clothes we actually wear, taking photos we don't post, and having experiences without costumes. But who am I kidding? I already have my eye on a new beach caftan for next summer. At least I'm self-aware about it.