7 brands millennials used to flex in college that Gen Z now mocks

Every generation thinks it’s cooler than the last.

But if you were in college between 2008 and 2015, you probably remember a time when showing off certain brands wasn’t just a fashion choice. It was a lifestyle.

Those brands were a shortcut to identity. They told people you had taste, money (or knew how to fake it), and that you were tuned into the cultural frequency of the time.

Fast forward a decade, and the same brands are now punchlines in TikTok comment sections.

Let’s dive into the seven that went from status symbol to please delete the pics.

1. Abercrombie & Fitch

There was a time when you could smell an Abercrombie store before you saw it.

Back in college, walking around with that moose logo on your chest was a silent way of saying, “Yeah, I shop at the mall, but the good part of the mall.”

The lighting was so dim it felt like a nightclub. The models looked permanently airbrushed. And the clothes were, if we’re being honest, just T-shirts and jeans. But we paid for the dream.

Then came the crash. Scandals around exclusivity, diversity, and a shift toward authenticity culture made the Abercrombie aesthetic feel outdated.

Gen Z doesn’t want to look like everyone else. They want to look like no one else.

Abercrombie has since rebranded with minimalist styles and inclusive marketing. But to Gen Z, it still gives “high school popularity contest.”

2. Hollister

If Abercrombie was the preppy dream, Hollister was its beachy, laid-back cousin.

You couldn’t walk into a dorm without spotting someone in a Hollister hoodie that smelled like “California” (whatever that meant to a brand based in Ohio).

I grew up in California, and I still never saw anyone who dressed like the people on those shopping bags. It was pure fantasy, a stylized version of a coastal lifestyle that existed mostly in catalogues.

As one Gen Z TikToker put it, “Hollister walked so Shein could run.” The brand’s mass-produced vibe and logo-heavy designs don’t fit Gen Z’s thrift-core or “quiet luxury” aesthetics.

Now, the Hollister logo is a relic of an era when fake tans and distressed jeans ruled the campus quad.

3. UGG

Ah, the UGG boots. Soft, fuzzy, and overpriced pieces of comfort culture.

In the late 2000s, pairing UGGs with leggings was practically a uniform. Bonus points if you carried a Starbucks cup.

I remember one winter at UCLA when it seemed like every hallway was a synchronized shuffle of beige suede and rubber soles. It was less fashion, more a migration pattern.

Gen Z actually likes cozy footwear, just not when it screams “basic.” UGGs have tried to make a comeback with collaborations and platform versions, but the cultural memory is hard to erase.

Today, the brand lands somewhere between ironic nostalgia and “my mom still wears those.”

4. Michael Kors

There was a time when a Michael Kors tote was the handbag equivalent of getting verified on Instagram.

For college students, it was the “I’ve made it” accessory. Luxury enough to flex, accessible enough to afford with a semester’s worth of babysitting money.

But the ubiquity became its downfall. When everyone started carrying a MK logo bag, it lost the exclusivity it thrived on.

Luxury loses its shine the moment it becomes too easy to get. Gen Z isn’t chasing “rich” as much as “rarefied.”

They prefer niche, sustainable, and logo-free pieces that whisper rather than shout.

Now, the Michael Kors aesthetic feels like a throwback to an era when showing off labels mattered more than having taste.

5. Ed Hardy

Remember when tattoo art exploded onto every T-shirt like a rebellion wrapped in rhinestones?

Ed Hardy was the height of cool in college bars around 2010. Celebrities wore it. Athletes wore it. Your one friend who always smelled like Axe body spray definitely wore it.

I had an Ed Hardy hoodie once. I thought I looked like a rock star. Looking back, I probably looked like a MySpace profile picture come to life.

Gen Z doesn’t just dislike Ed Hardy. They see it as a meme. In a world where subtlety is power, the old Ed Hardy maximalism feels like shouting at a quiet dinner party.

As noted in Yahoo Finance, these days, “prominent logo displays often backfire, making brands seem inauthentic and less cool.” Few brands embody that lesson more than Ed Hardy.

That said, the brand is having a micro-revival among ironic fashion circles. Everything comes back eventually, just not for the reasons it used to.

6. Beats by Dre

If you had a pair of Beats in college, you didn’t just listen to music. You announced that you listened to music.

The glossy red or black headband, the oversized “b” logo, it was audio flexing at its finest. And for good reason. Beats made sound feel like status.

But Gen Z grew up with AirPods. To them, Beats look bulky, loud, and a bit try-hard.

The shift here is more psychological than stylistic. Millennials wanted to show what they liked. Gen Z wants to hide in plain sight. Minimalism, portability, and subtle tech integration are the new markers of taste.

Ironically, the same company, Apple, owns both Beats and AirPods. It’s proof that cultural perception can matter more than product quality.

7. Victoria’s Secret

Few brands have fallen from grace quite like Victoria’s Secret.

For years, it defined beauty culture. The angels, the runway shows, the perfect symmetry of every model. It was the dream. Until it wasn’t.

Millennials wore those pink sweatpants with “LOVE PINK” stamped across the back like a badge of honor. Now, Gen Z sees it as peak cringe.

They’ve grown up with body positivity, gender fluidity, and a different kind of empowerment. To them, the old VS feels outdated, overly sexualized, exclusionary, and out of touch.

The brand has tried to pivot toward inclusivity and authenticity, but the shift feels more like damage control than evolution.

Brands that once built themselves on impossible beauty standards are struggling to survive in a culture that celebrates self-acceptance instead. That’s the story of Victoria’s Secret in one sentence.

The bigger picture

When I look back, most of these “flex” brands weren’t really about fashion. They were about belonging.

Wearing them meant fitting into a version of success that was easy to define. Look good, smell expensive, be seen. But culture changes, and every generation redefines what status means.

For Gen Z, status comes from authenticity, not conformity. They don’t chase the mall brands their older siblings worshipped. They build aesthetics from thrift stores, sustainability movements, and self-expression.

I’ve mentioned this before, but we tend to outgrow not just styles but stories. The brands we once used to signal who we were become reminders of who we’ve already been.

And maybe that’s why Gen Z mocks what Millennials flexed, because mockery is just another way of saying, “We’re rewriting the rules.”

The bottom line

Trends are just mirrors. They show us what a generation values at a given moment in time.

For Millennials, that meant logos, luxury, and belonging. For Gen Z, it’s irony, authenticity, and standing apart.

Different goals, same human desire to be seen, to express, to matter.

If you’re old enough to remember flexing that Michael Kors bag or those UGG boots, don’t cringe too hard.

You weren’t wrong. You were just in a different chapter of the same story we’re all still writing: how to be cool, and how to care less about it over time.