#Corecore, and the New Language of Connection

We live in an era that feels like permanent turbulence. Political instability, climate dread, wars, housing crises, inflation, pandemics, tech disruption and on and on. The “rules of life” that once guided previous generations, such as steady jobs, clear gender roles, and predictable institutions, are cracking under pressure.

For Gen Z men, this volatility is shaping both their identities and consumer behaviour in unprecedented ways.

Trust collapse: Globally, only 42% of Gen Z trust business leaders to do what is right (Edelman Trust Barometer 2024).

Digital refuge: Globally, 60% of Gen Z say online communities make them feel less alone (Deloitte Gen Z Survey 2024).

This fragmentation cuts both ways:

Positive: Gen Z are breaking from rigid masculine norms, embracing emotional expression, and finding community online.

Negative: They are also experiencing historic levels of disconnection, erosion of trust, and confusion of identity.

Into this chaotic backdrop steps a strange, glitchy TikTok aesthetic: Corecore

What is Corecore?

Corecore is TikTok’s anti-aesthetic, stitched, fragmented montages of film clips, memes, news grabs, childhood VHS tapes, existential quotes. Unlike cottagecore or coquette, it does not romanticise a lifestyle. It dramatises alienation.

And it is not entirely new. Its DNA runs back to the Dada Movement of the 1910s, when artists responded to the collapse of order after World War I with absurdity, cut-ups, and collage. When the world feels fragmented, art fragments too.

But defining Corecore is slippery. As Emma Beswick writes in 34th Street Magazine:

“It’s hard to truly understand what Corecore is because, as with every TikTok trend, the idea seems to change with every video. There isn’t one singular set of requirements for a video to be Corecore; it seems that anything, if it’s weird and sad and deemed ‘real’ enough, can be Corecore.”

Even Urban Dictionary echoes this ambiguity, calling Corecore:

“[K]ind of a deconstructed art. Basically, invoking emotion out of a series of (visual) clips that you develop your own meaning to. Corecore content is introspective.”

And @masonoelle, one of the earliest adopters, told Time Magazine:

“The whole point of this stuff is to create something that can’t be categorised, commodified, made into clickbait, or moderated—something immune to the functions of control that dictate the content we consume and the ideas we are allowed to hold.”

In 2025, Corecore is Gen Z’s Dada: a digital rebellion against polish, order, and consumerist control.

Pop Culture Meets Corecore

The reach of Corecore is not limited to anonymous TikTok edits. Pop culture moments are being absorbed and reinterpreted through its lens.

Take Ryan Gosling’s recent interview with Stephen Colbert. When asked what the most dangerous animal is, Gosling paused and answered: “man.”

That clip has since been turned into a Corecore video, spliced with images of war, environmental collapse, and urban isolation. It has been viewed millions of times, not because it is Gosling, but because it captures what many young men already feel: that the greatest threat to our future is ourselves.

This is what makes Corecore so compelling. It takes fragments of everyday culture, such as an interview, a meme, or a film scene and reframes them as existential commentary.

In doing so, it becomes a vessel for how Gen Z men process their world: fragmented, sceptical, and haunted by collapse.

The Loneliness Epidemic

MALE LONELINESS IS NO LONGER ANECDOTAL; IT IS A MEASURABLE EPIDEMIC.

Australia: 43% of men are classified as lonely, nearly a quarter of those aged 35–49 fall into the “high loneliness” category. (National Academies Of Science, Engineering And Medicine Consensus Committee Report On Social Isolation And Loneliness (SI/L 2022)

US: Based on aggregated data from 2023 and 2024, 25% of U.S. Men aged 15 to 34 said they felt lonely a lot of the previous day, significantly higher than the national average of 18% and the total for young women (also 18%). (https://news.gallup.com/poll/690788/younger-men-among-loneliest-west.aspx)

In the UK, young men (16–24) are the loneliest demographic, reporting more frequent feelings of loneliness than women of the same age (ONS, 2022).

Japan: the government appointed a Minister for Loneliness in 2021, as male isolation linked to suicide and deaths of despair became a national concern.

WHY DOES THIS MATTER FOR CORECORE?

Because it gives men a way to feel without words, sharing or reposting a Corecore edit about urban emptiness or missed calls is easier than admitting, “I am lonely.”

The Bottom Line

Corecore is not just a TikTok trend. It is a symptom, a cultural glitch that tells us young men are lost in noise and searching for fragments of truth.

Just as Dada was a century ago, it is art born of uncertainty. But this time, it lives on a platform where billions scroll daily. Hashtags like #corecore have already clocked over 2.1 billion global views.

Corecore is not a passing blip. It taps directly into the cultural narrative shaping young men today. It provides them with a language to process loneliness, alienation, and distrust, while also offering a creative platform to express their perceptions of the world, themselves, and the role of technology in their lives.

At its core, Corecore is less about a fleeting aesthetic and more about a generational perspective taking shape in real time.

And there is hope here.

Corecore is doing what governments, corporations, and even brands have failed to do: providing young men with a vehicle for self-expression, a means of social commentary, and a way to connect with like-minded individuals. The power sits in the creators’ hands, not in institutions.

In that sense, Corecore is not only a symptom of alienation but also a service—a creative outlet that fosters a sense of belonging in a fragmented age.

If smoking once symbolised rebellion, Corecore now symbolises alienation. The most innovative brands will not anesthetise despair; they will translate it into what men are really craving: connection, belonging, and authenticity.

The question is, are you brave enough to speak the fragmented language of now?

Marketing Implications

EMOTION V PRODUCT
Men are responding to feelings over features. Campaigns must lead with raw emotional storytelling, not polish and performance.
FRAGMENTED IDENTITIES NEED FRAGMENTED NARRATIVES
Corecore thrives on contradictions. Brands can do the same, showing toughness and vulnerability, chaos and humour, instead of pushing one-dimensional masculine ideals.
CONNECTION IS THE CURRENCY
Male loneliness means products and services that facilitate rituals of togetherness, such as food, sport, gaming, and mateship, will cut deeper than pure status buys.
IMPERFECTIONS BUILDS TRUST
Corecore rejects gloss. Brands that show their cracks, behind-the-scenes awkwardness, and vulnerability earn credibility.
CONSUMERISM IS ON TRIAL
Many Corecore edits explicitly critique capitalism. Men will still spend, but they want purchases to carry meaning: ethics, durability, and human benefit over churn.
MICRO-MOMENTS BEAT GRAND GESTURES
Corecore elevates tiny lifelines: a smile on the train, a mate’s text, a shared schooner. Brands should capture these small, relatable sparks rather than grandiose promises.