If you’ve ever read POOSH, you would know Kourtney Kardashian’s diet is strictly keto. We’d never stoop that low to stay hot and relevant, but recently we’ve caught wind that Kourt’s been munching on something much more delicious: the cool kids.
Of course, we’re talking Gen Z. The generation that has everyone (mostly us) talking. And whilst we fall into the generation on a technicality—born in the year 1997, hotly contested as the year that the age of the Millennial ended and the reign of Gen Z began—we’re just not quite there. Yet.
We wouldn’t be caught dead with a side-part but we also aren’t buying properties to ‘do up’ with our long-term ‘partners’. We didn’t grow up being pacified with screens, but we also don’t have Deathly Hallows tattoos. Our two closest friends randomly started dating on a Tuesday afternoon, a certain forehead vein is definitely more prominent in photos, but mum no longer forces us to eat vegetables. Anyone else born in ‘97 or ‘96 understands. Not a Millennial, not yet a Gen Z.
But, we’re on a warpath to live on the younger side of ‘97. Our muse? Kourtney. Arguably the most public, and most successful, Gen Z diet we’ve seen. She plucked Addison Rae off TikTok and into her Malibu beachfront home with the precision and subtlety we could only dream of. She’s like a vampire; sucking the blood of bad bleep Addison for every last drop. She’d throw her to the wolves (that scene in KKUWTK) if it helped her shave off a few years.
We’ll be the first to say that it’s working. We want what she’s eating.
So, we have spent the last month on an ambitious diet towards youth, street cred, and (still) being hot, all the while asking ourselves, WWKD? (What Would Kourtney Do?)
Here’s our embarrassingly so-not-cool, so-not-Gen-Z Gen Z diet, where we try to prove that we’re still cool with the kids, and definitely not Millennials…
First things first; have you seen Euphoria?!
Neither had we before last month. It was big, it was new, everybody was talking about it. But we wrote it off as a big-budget Americanised version of Skins, and who can compete with that (not Americans). However, if there was ever anyone to prove us wrong (impossible!), it would be Queen of the Gen Zs, Zendaya, and King of Brisbane, Jacob Elordi. And oh how wrong we were.
T: I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve now watched Euphoria from start to finish twice, and will probably be going in for thirds very soon. I’ve since started an Official Fezco Fanclub (DM me to purchase a membership), calling people ‘playboy’, and jogging to the beat of ‘Nate Growing Up’ and ‘Demanding Excellence’–the hypest hype beasts from the OST.
M: Before last week, the only thing I knew about this show was that it was the entire reason Zendaya was spotted at the Brekky Creek Hotel last December. Thanks to her union with the King of Brisbane, Zendaya was popping up all over our beloved city. And whilst I loved that Jacob was introducing her to the joys of GoMA, that was as far as I cared. Now, all statements must be retracted. A year too late, we embarked on Euphoria. With fears of being too dramatic, time stopped. Euphoria is the best show I have ever seen. I mean, Larry Stylinson? McSteamy looking like a hot daddy post plane crash? A little boy named Ashtray? Say no more.
Next up: the skull emoji
M: Someone commented this on my TikTok and my immediate thought was that they hated it so much that they wanted me to die six times as per their six skull emojis. I was so panicked (cyber bullying is real) I asked Caitlin’s 17-year-old sister who informed me it was actually because they were laughing so much they were (metaphorically) dying. Embarrassing, but a good learning curve. I will be using this emoji a lot in times to come in order to assert my youth and understanding of Gen Z culture.
Rejecting millennial pink in favour of maximalism
T: Playing it safe is out and going balls deep is in. If there’s anything that screams I’M STILL YOUNG, it’s risking it all. Gen Zs have grown up with the overwhelming dread of melting ice-caps, radical terrorism, and vapes exploding your own hearts. You could literally die any moment, so why waste your precious remaining minutes fading into the crowd. Be the most overdressed person at uni; wear silk pyjama tops to work; get a facial tattoo; throw out your $500 Smeg toaster-kettle combo because some kid told you it was ‘too Millennial’.
M: Sometimes when I feel like crying after work I stare at the bubblegum-pink toaster-kettle combo that Caitlin received for Christmas and has graciously made communal and it immediately calms me down. I think it’s because its combined value is consistently double my bank balance. So when Tom’s young gay fling told me it ‘screamed millennial’, I was hurt, but honestly not surprised. However I have chosen to turn a blind eye to this and the Smeg remains – or else my sanity would not. Thanking Caitlin and her mother.
Not shaving our legs, and shaving our heads
T: I’ve been wanting to shave all my hair off since circa 2016-19 when I grew it out. The only thing stopping me: childhood trauma (talking about trauma on digital platforms is very Gen Z—using the word ‘digital’ is not). In my transition from year 9 to 10, the overwhelming pressure of making my fringe work for a new school consumed me and I snapped. Full Britney. Madsy didn’t bother to learn my name at first and instead referred to me as the ‘weird bald kid’, and I didn’t give losing it all another thought for the next nine years. But in life, we must conquer our fears and make friends with our trauma. And this time at the salon, I had official bald baddie Fez cheering me on.
M: Respectfully I will not be participating in this because I still need to get laid and last week I spent all my rent money on permanent hair straightening.
A large part of this diet was just bugging Tom to download TikTok and justifying wasting hours a day on the app in the name of journalism
T: Before TikTok blew up I used to joke about being TikTok famous. This was around the same time that I was trying to figure out why everybody younger than me used Snapchat to message. I thought Snapchat was for talking to your dealer and sending nudes. I’ve only resisted it for so long because the amount of time I spend on Instagram and Grindr is already insurmountable, any more screen-time would turn my eyes into oblongs. Also, the thought of having to create a whole new social media persona and curate a new feed exhausted me. In the end, it all comes back to Euphoria. I know those e-girls are out there on TikTok changing the game with eyeliner and displaced blush and I. Want. IN. If anything is going to pump fresh blood into me and boost my collagen production, it’s somewhere on my TikTok ‘for you’ page.
*Update: since downloading TikTok three weeks ago I have used it twice: once to watch cool girls do cool makeup, and once to watch rabbits playing in snow.
M: My Addison is TiKTok. Tom refuses to download the app but then will send me Instagram Reels (💀💀💀💀💀💀). He will most definitely argue that Gen Z will respect him for not succumbing to the peer pressure, Instagram is better, blah blah, but I think that’s lame. Get on TikTok or get left behind.
Respectfully, nothing else can be done
T: I don’t know if it’s the 7 different collagen-boosting serums I’m using or the Gen Z Diet, but I haven’t aged a day since we started writing this. In fact, I feel younger (and cooler). I even stayed out til 3 AM last Saturday and started work three hours later like a fucking 18-year-old.
M: I’ve poured all of my energy into this and I think it’s working. Probably not as much energy as Kourtney did, but she’s clearly got more on the line. If all of this fails, I’ll just fall back to my favourite youth pick-me-up: wandering around aimlessly in the grocery store pretending to look at the expensive pre-cut meats knowing I can’t afford it because I’m so young and poor and hot.