Words and photography by Kennedy-Jayne
(Content warning: eating and dieting habits discussed)
People in their twenties lived through what I call the Flat White Pandemic. A generation shaped by cling film diets, Chloe Ting workouts, rice cakes, cold showers, Skims, and flat whites that felt ‘healthier’ simply because they had less milk.
I’m aware this is a sensitive topic, and I want to approach it with care. Not to glamourise old habits, but to encourage a healthier mindset. As I write this on my fourth coffee, I’m reminded of how easily the Flat White Pandemic caffeinated the way we saw ourselves.
It wasn’t obvious at the time, but as we grew older, the confessions of childhood body struggles multiplied beyond anything I could keep track of, and so did the hands I’ve held and the hearts I’ve comforted because of it.
The Flat White Pandemic didn’t start with coffee. It started long before, in school corridors where pancake day felt like a threat, changing rooms offered no privacy, and lunchtime became a performance.
One moment that captures the Flat White mindset for me was my first high school party. I’d promised my mum I wouldn’t drink, yet the low‑calorie vodka weighed down my bag. That afternoon, I was running cross country. One on the ground, and one in my mind. The girls, in the no-privacy changing room, discussed ‘Pretty Little Thing’ dresses, and I did laps agonising over how I was going to wear a dress in front of girls who never worried about pancake day. At 6:00 pm, I was wondering when I would finally catch up. In cross country and in whatever “female maturity” was supposed to be.
At 6:30 pm, I stared sideways in a mirror. It wasn’t genetics; the boys in my year made it clear they thought my sister was a more attractive option. Although I have always believed my sister is the most beautiful person in the world, it was her intelligence I envied more than her appearance. By 6:45 pm, I was weighing up dress options. At 7:00 pm, supposedly dinner time, I was calculating how the wrong meal might make my stomach sit further forward than my chest. That’s the thing about the Flat White Pandemic: it caught us off guard. It captivated us, confused us, and convinced us we could always push ourselves a little further.
At 7:15 pm, I had coffee instead of dinner.
I created the idea of the Flat White Pandemic to make sense of my own experiences, a way to name something that felt invisible yet everywhere. Now, I want to offer a different kind of ‘flat white mindset’: stronger, clearer, and with far less dilution.
Because why weaken a topic that has caffeinated so many generations?
I know some readers may be too young for coffee, but old enough to feel the weight of their reflection. There is a future version of you who will grow into your body with understanding and gentleness. Until then, I hear you. I understand every contradiction, confusion, and refusal that comes with learning to love your body. I empathise deeply with younger girls, but I also recognise how younger boys carry their own quiet versions of the same struggle. We were all shaped by the same pandemic. There will be a time when you don’t hesitate at your reflection, when your shadow doesn’t feel heavy and when your clothes stop dictating the shape you think you should be. Your body will grow and shrink; it may curve or straighten. None of that will change who you become.
One day, you’ll forget the names of the people who once asked what day it was on pancake day. And even if they text you in ten years to say, “You look well,” their opinion will no longer hold any weight against your own.
In Victoria Moss’s Vogue article ‘The Cost of Letting Ultra‑Thin Win,’ she notes that 97.9% of models in the spring/summer 2026 shows were straight‑size. It’s a reminder that while no one chooses their body, the media chooses which bodies to romanticise.
The media has shrunk itself so small, so ultra‑thin, that it’s left no room for the rest of us. And as long as we keep consuming it, we keep caffeinating it. The younger generations will only consume what we offer them; they will only be as inclusive as the world around them. The idea of them experiencing another Flat White Pandemic is something I can’t quite stomach.
We must recognise that the media is programmed to reflect its perception of consumer desires. Look at any current film, advert, or branded social media platform, and you’ll see the same thing: the return of the ultra-thin ideal. Even fast‑food adverts use these bodies to reassure you that indulgence won’t show. And if that still feels abstract, ask AI to generate an “attractive woman”. Even the algorithms have absorbed the message.
The truth is that model inclusivity wasn’t a revolution; it was a trend. And like most trends, it lasted only slightly longer than my morning coffee.
We must stop letting the media dictate which bodies are worth celebrating. I’m not sure how we move forward when something keeps pulling us back, and I don’t know how to outrun it without losing my breath. I do know I’m done consuming watery decaf.
Maybe my next coffee will be stronger, with far less milk – and maybe our culture can be, too.
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