Cozy in a Cold World: The cozycore aesthetic as Comfort, Capitalism, and Coping

Is the pursuit of cozy a protest — or simply a prettier form of surrender? 

Cozycore’s Starter Pack: What do you need?  

You want to embrace your comfortable era and build a slow lifestyle? Well, the aesthetic you are looking for on Pinterest or TikTok is Cozycore.  

But how exactly do you start? What are you supposed to do or wear? Well, it’s simple—get into your pyjamas, light a candle, make yourself a cup of tea, and dust off your journal. Cozycore is all about creating a soft, personal moment to retreat from the chaos of everyday life. 

Image: Cozycore Starter Pack created using ChatGPT and SORA

Cozycore – what is it? 

 

The word “cozy” means (and is a shortened form of the word) comfortable. The suffix “-core” refers to the central theme of the topic, typically signalling an aesthetic genre. Put together, it literally means the central theme of comfort.  

Cozycore is an aesthetic, lifestyle and fashion trend that is based on the core idea of coziness and comfort, no matter where you are. Imagine— fireplaces on rainy days, reading books in your bed, a slow morning with coffee or tea, a late lunch with friends with all the time in the world. What ties these moments together is the body and mind seeking refuge from the busy days of daily life.   

It’s an environment you build for yourself, not just a look or a post on Instagram. This is why it crosses over from fashion to interior design, social media to mental wellness.  

On social media, the number say it all:  

• The hashtag #cozycore has gained 178K posts on Instagram 

• 33.8K videos are tagged on TikTok 

• Millions of pins on Pinterest. 

  
  

But where did this all start from?  

Where does it come from? 

Before we dive into what exactly does cozycore look like, let’s take one look where it comes from.  

Going back in time, we can trace its roots to other comfort-driven aesthetics on social media like hygge—a Danish word for a quality of coziness that creates a feeling of contentment or well-being. Hygge become popular in mid-2010s and made headlines in mainstream Western lifestyle magazines. 

Then came cottagecore, an aesthetic that romanticized the rural, countryside life. Originally, starting in 2018, it was at peak during the beginning of COVID. People had time for activities like these – gardening, raising animals, making bread at home.  

During lockdown, our homes became everything we needed them to be – our offices, our safe spaces, our cafes, our cinemas. The world became obsessed with creating “the right vibes” in our homes and it was more than just fun and comfort—it became about survival.  

At the end of the COVID cottagecore era, the trend transitioned, very smoothly, into Cozycore. The fantasy and parallel world cottagecore turned into reality with Cozycore—it went from doing things for the just sake of spending time to listening to our bodies more.  

People started connecting with more organic and more pure parts of life— finding happiness in the small things, essentially says Tom Hodgkinson. But why is this so profitable for the businesses? Why is everyone doing it suddenly? 

Why is it marketable? 

Brands like Haus, Asos, OFF Hours, are making a lot of money by simply catering to the cozycore trend, faithfully. But why? Why is that feeling of being with friends or that feeling of being cozy in your comforter, all relaxed so profitable in today’s world?  

In a time when hustle culture is being criticized, Cozycore shows up as the perfect antidote: stillness, softness and self-caring. These brands recognised the opportunity that knocked on everybody’s doors and they took it seriously; creating fashion collections or furnishing that is soft and cozy. That’s the desire to be cozy and comfortable.  

Brands like Aritzia, Skims, and Free People have mastered Cozycore through capsule collections of “elevated loungewear.” Home brands like IKEA and Urban Outfitters Home also leaned into this narrative during and after the pandemic, marketing home “vibes” and “comfort kits.” 

WGSN’S consumer trends analysis tells us that cozy core has evolved into something more than just an aesthetic—it's a purchase path. It’s the mood that sells the product here. 

The rise of slow living and cozy content creators adds fuel to the fire of slow mundane days with quiet aesthetic backgrounds or the gentle days and soft music.  

What’s underneath?  

But why does simplicity matter? Why do we crave an antidote to the hustle culture?  

Because people are burnt-out, depressed, scared of the real world. In a time when everything feels polarized—when truths are either black or white—the urge to opt out becomes stronger than ever. 

Cozycore walks a fine line between self-soothing and self-avoidance. Like bed-rotting and intentional rest, it can also become a soft, aesthetic escape into passivity. 

That said, choosing to pause—to do nothing that qualifies as “productive”—can also be a deeply necessary act of self-rediscovery. 

In Season 2 of The Happiness Lab podcast, Yale psychology professor Dr. Laurie Santos talks to the Idler author Tom Hodgkinson about the power of idling. Tom argues that idling is key to a “happy, creative, and productive existence.” In that sense, idling isn’t just part of Cozycore—it might be at its very heart. 

But then comes the guilt. The creeping feeling that we should be doing something more—more meaningful, more urgent, more useful. 

As Tom says, “These feelings of time stress—this time famine—come at a cost of happiness.” 

In a study titled Thinking About Time as Money Decreases Environmental Behavior, researchers Ashley Whillans and Elizabeth Dunn found that when people place too much economic value on their time, they become less willing to take time for others. Even simple acts—like volunteering, helping, or recycling—start to feel like wasted time. 

So yes, passivity can soothe. But it isn’t a destination. In a world that may already be burning, a small moment of comfort might be necessary—but it cannot come at the cost of letting everything around us burn. 

And it’s important to ask the right questions—who actually gets the luxury of stepping away? Does everyone get to unplug, light a candle, and call it healing? Because while Cozycore markets comfort as universal, access to that kind of stillness is not. The aesthetic may look soft and simple, but the reality of participating in it often isn’t—especially when comfort, time, and space aren’t distributed equally. 

Who gets to be cozy?  

Cozycore sells the idea that anyone can live a warm, gentle life, and they can, but perhaps that cost is much higher for some than they can afford. Life, unfortunately, comes with a life tag, and even comfort isn’t free. It takes time, space, resources and often a certain kind of privilege to fully embrace this aesthetic beyond a curated social media post.  

Scrolling through Instagram or TikTok, you’ll soon notice a trend of white walls, pretty views, minimalist apartments, and plush sofas and blankets. Coffee makers, and oat milk lattes, soft sweaters and the perfect lighting. This version of coziness requires more than just book and a cup of tea. It requires stablity.  

First, you need a quiet, safe space then you need a camera quality that deamnds attention, then you need time that isn’t being consumed by jobs, schools, and or caregiving. It needs life beyond survival, and for many that simply isn’t an option.  

Even more subtle is the way the aesthetic centres whiteness and middle-class femininity. Cozycore, as it's popularly visualized, tends to align with a Eurocentric vision of home—clean, orderly, hygge-inspired. There’s little room for chaos, color, or cultural variation. In that sense, the cozy aesthetic becomes exclusionary, even if unintentional. What is considered “cozy” and aspirational in one culture might be dismissed as cluttered or unrefined in another. 

And let’s talk about gender. Women, especially online, are both the creators and the consumers of cozy culture. It offers an alternative to the toxic hustle of #girlbossing, but still subtly demands a kind of soft performance—gentle productivity, aesthetic rest, curated vulnerability. It’s less about breaking the mold and more about painting it a softer shade of beige. 

Cozycore can also gloss over the fact that not everyone feels safe at home. For people in unsafe domestic environments, for those living in shared housing, cramped student dorms, or under financial stress, “coziness” is more of a fantasy than a lifestyle. 

That doesn’t mean the idea of comfort should be abandoned. But it does mean we have to ask—what do we mean when we say “cozy,” and who are we leaving out? 

Cozycore – Protest or Surrender?  

So, what is cozycore and what is it doing? Is it a protest against the work culture of the boomers or is it a surrender to the burning world?  

In some ways, it is a protest against toxic productivity culture. The words rest, soft, happy—that's powerful in a capitalist system that demands we constantly produce.  

But it unfortunately, also a surrender.  A retreat into carefully curated softness that avoids confrontation, activism, or deeper engagement with systematic problems.  

Cozycore is umbrella for many, however, some use it as a permanent roof of safety. And that is perhaps the problem that we should tackle first, rather than the burning world they are staring.  

Cozycore, then, becomes a mirror—of the world’s violence, exhaustion, and inequality—but also of our desire to find safety within it. Whether we use it as a balm, a brand, or a rebellion, cozycore asks us to slow down. But perhaps the better question is: what will we do once we’re well-rested?