You're Not CBK. Neither Am I. Can We Move On?
In defense of just liking things.
Hi everyone, welcome back! In case you’re new here, I’m Olivia, director of content at Artemis Ward and your guide for this monthly column, where we dive into the deeper shifts behind viral moments and what they mean for us. Let’s take the plunge.
Yesterday, as I was getting ready for work, I put on a tortoise shell headband, gave myself a quick look in the mirror, and then decided absolutely not. Why, you ask? Well, it’s simple. I was worried people might think I was trying to look like Carolyn Bessette Kennedy (henceforth known as CBK).
Now, here’s the thing. I happen to love headbands, and I have ever since I was a little girl. (I’m still holding onto my first-ever headband, a sparkly hot pink cheetah print masterpiece from Claire’s, circa 2006. Forever a real one.) The main reason I love headbands is their practicality: I have very long and thick hair and I cannot stand it when it gets in my face. I also happen to wear a lot of neutrals, so I find that headbands offer a simple way to add some visual interest to an outfit.
“CAROLYN BESSETTE COPYCAT!” the TikTok police shriek from the rooftops. “She wears black and likes headbands! Arrest her!”
I jest, I jest.
If any of you reading this are confused, it is because you are either (blissfully!!) unaware of CBKTok or not particularly interested in the “it girls” of ‘90s fashion. Either way, here’s what you need to know: Carolyn Bessette Kennedy was known to wear (wait for it) neutrals and hard tortoise shell headbands. And thanks to FX’s Love Story — Ryan Murphy’s new dramatized miniseries about her romance with John F. Kennedy Jr., which has taken over the internet with the full force of a category five hurricane — she is currently everywhere.
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I’ll be honest. Up until last week, I had no interest in watching Love Story. The topic is too tragic, too recent, and — even by Ryan Murphy’s standards — too exploitative. And yet, one month after the show’s release, the deluge of “M-R-S dot Kennedy” TikToks got to me. Whether it was the sneak peeks of the outfits or the spoofs of Sarah Pidgeon’s egregious lip biting and pen chewing, I couldn’t say; regardless, I needed to know what all the fuss was about. I binged all five available episodes in one sitting and found it to be pretty decent.
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Many viewers have noted problems with the show — none more than Darryl Hannah, actress and ex-girlfriend of JFK Jr. who recently wrote a New York Times op-ed slamming her less-than-favorable depiction. But my problem with the show has little to do with the show at all. Rather, my issue is with its reception on TikTok. The moment Love Story dropped, TikTok did what TikTok does: it swallowed the thing whole and spat out an endless scroll of takes, countertakes, and counter-countertakes, each one more exhausting than the last. Allow me to introduce you to the four types of CBKToks, which I have catalogued at great personal cost:
The Tastemaker: When CBK has been on your moodboard for years so now everyone is discovering your niche fashion inspo. Ma’am. She was a director at Calvin Klein and married to a Kennedy. She was photographed by every major publication for a decade. She was never niche. What the Pick Me means to say is that they feel possessive of something they loved before it was cool, which is a feeling I understand deeply, but, alas, it does not make us special.
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Enable 3rd party cookies or use another browserThe Contrarian: When all the girls are cosplaying CBK but you know Jackie O is the real one. I see. So the response to everyone copying the same woman is to copy a different woman…who was also a Kennedy…and has also been endlessly referenced since approximately 1962. Groundbreaking. Instead of sharing what they do like, the Contrarians defines themselves by who they are not. See also: In a world full of Carolyns, be a Carrie. I get it — Carrie’s wardrobe was iconic, the maximalist to Carolyn’s minimalist. But I do wish we could get to a point where we don’t have to pit two people against each other in the battle for coolness and originality.
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The Individualist: Carolyn Bessette this, Carolyn Bessette that. Let’s bring back actual personal style in 2026. The Individualist proclaims that they reject the trends by, of course, hopping on a trending conversation on a platform whose entire architecture is built on trend replication…very unique.
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The Gatekeeper: Trying to dress up like CBK actually goes against everything about her aesthetic because she was effortless and didn’t try or care at all. This is the most unhinged take, and I mean that with love. Effortlessness as a gatekeeping mechanism is genuinely inspired. The Gatekeeper argues that you can’t be something if you try to become it. If you try something, you’ve already lost simply because you tried. And, let’s be clear: the idea that CBK didn’t curate her appearance is, at best, conjecture. We will never know the degree to which she cared about how she looked — but she did work at Calvin Klein, so, I think we can assume she must have cared a little bit. Just saying.
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If you take a step back and squint, these four types of TikToks aren’t really about Carolyn Bessette Kennedy at all. Pick a topic — any topic — and you’ll find yourself observing the same four camps. A new TV show, a trending recipe, an artist that blows up overnight. The Tastemaker was there first and wants you to know it. The Contrarian has a better version of the thing. The Individualist isn’t doing the thing, actually, and is better for it. The Gatekeeper thinks you’re doing the thing wrong and always will. TikTok trends may come and go, but the shape of the conversation always remains the same.
And that conversation is getting louder. Loud enough, it turns out, to follow you into your bathroom in the morning.
The So What
So, let’s revisit my morning yesterday. I almost made the simple decision to wear something I like, and then I changed my mind based on what I assumed other people would think. Based on a TV show — no, sorry, based on TikTok’s response to a TV show. And that says something about how online discourse is starting to function in our daily lives.
Last month, I argued that performance is how change starts. We try something because it looks interesting or appealing, and, somewhere along the way, it becomes something we actually do. I still believe that. But that process depends on two small but sacred moments. The first is the curiosity gap: the space between seeing something and deciding you like it. The second is the intention gap: the space between deciding you like something and actually doing something about it.
What TikTok does — especially in moments like the current CBK discussion — is collapse those gaps entirely. Suddenly liking a headband isn’t just liking a headband. It’s signaling allegiance to a trend cycle, an aesthetic camp, a cultural reference point, and a whole set of opinions you may or may not even have. When every small choice feels like a public statement, people start second-guessing the things they might have otherwise tried — and then decide it’s easier not to try things at all.
For brands, marketers, or anyone in the business of trying to reach people, that’s a problem worth taking seriously. We cannot inspire genuine desire in an environment where wanting things has become this exhausting.
Which brings us back to Carolyn Bessette Kennedy. I don’t think people are obsessed with her right now because of the headbands or the slip dresses or the ponytails. I think they’re obsessed with what she seems to represent: someone who knew exactly what she liked and acted accordingly, completely unbothered by what it meant to anyone else. Her mythology lies in her taste and her decisiveness. Despite being one of the most photographed women of her era, she seemed to move through the world with a private relationship with her own taste. That’s what audiences are hungry for. Heck, that’s what I’m hungry for, too. The freedom to just like something — and leave it at that.
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And, if you’ve made it this far, here’s a (blurry) throwback of the hot pink cheetah headband in action.
