THERE IS A new crisis sweeping across our youth. A cultural rot, if you will. A spiritual famine.

We have a ‘clean girl epidemic’ and it is doing untold damage to our young people. They are far too sensible, much too healthy, impossibly hydrated, and I just don’t see how it is possible to transition from teen to adult without five or six incredibly hairy and reckless years where you survive through sheer luck and the grace of God. In short, I am worried that we are not developing adults with the right skill sets.

In case you haven’t heard of it, the ‘clean girl aesthetic’ is a minimalist and (seemingly) effortless style that is focused on a polished, natural and healthy appearance. It emphasises glowy, clear skin, and healthy habits, like green juices and Pilates. It’s basically the opposite of the ‘aggressive and grimy with smudged eye-liner girl aesthetic’ that I was raised on (thanks in large part to Christina Aguilera’s ‘Dirrty’ era).

There has been a complete cultural shift. These new 19-year-olds are in bed by 9pm, sipping their herbal tea and journaling about their gratitude lists. They are up at the crack of dawn for a sensible breakfast and a yoga class so that they can start their day without their nervous systems telling them that they are being chased by multiple lions.

And it’s wonderful. It is, really. But it is also troubling.

Because really, shouldn’t they be out late, doing things that they shouldn’t and making all kinds of mistakes?

Our young people should not be hydrated, moisturised and well-rested. That is not the natural order of things.

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There is a very small window in life where you can survive off nothing but toast and noodles, where you don’t need a single drop of water all day and six double vodkas with red bull doesn’t require the assistance of a paramedic. Where telling your body that ‘you’ll sleep when you are dead’ has the same effect as eight hours of sleep.

You have a very limited time where you can get home 47 minutes before your alarm goes off and still make it into work on time.

And there is only the briefest of moments in life where you don’t stand out like a sore thumb in a nightclub. You have to embrace it. These are the good carnage years, and you really must make the most of them.

There are many years ahead for matcha and mindfulness, and for being in bed by 9pm with a cup of tea and a fish-oil supplement like a Victorian Widow recovering from consumption, but this is the only time that you can achieve something close to astral projection through shots of Baby Guinness alone.

A touch of chaos

This is how we navigate the path to adulthood, build character and experience the fun kinds of trauma. You need those years; they are the building blocks for a peaceful adult life. You need stories that end with ‘I probably should have died but the universe decided to keep me’. You need to be able to communicate ‘we will never speak about this again’ through a single look. That’s how you develop grit. You need to humiliate yourself, just a little, so you can grow.

Now, I’m not saying that the messy years are good for a person, but I am saying that they are an essential part of development. It’s how you build character! And a little bit of anxiety. But mostly character! Without this chaos, what will awaken them with a cold sweat at 3am in their 30s? Their perfectly balanced nervous systems and intact skin barriers? 

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What stories will they share to bond with the other parents during play dates? The time they accidentally exfoliated twice in one day? Or the time they drank two cups of camomile tea before bed? Pathetic.

It is simply unnatural to be this emotionally regulated before the prefrontal cortex has finished developing. Where is the need for approval and attention from strangers?

Over-scrutinised

I think that the issue stems from them being too self-aware, and that probably has something to do with the fact that every minute of their lives to date has been recorded and posted to various websites. Every angle, every moment, everything that they see is uploaded within seconds. How can they be expected to go feral under those conditions? How can you act hideously when everyone is watching?

It’s probably hard to let go on the dancefloor when you have seen millions of people turned into memes for far less.

But I worry for these future generations because have you really lived if you haven’t gorged on a kebab at 3am while you try to remember where you left your jacket, and you tell a complete stranger all your secrets because there was a momentary lull in conversation?

I worry about their immune systems and how they can develop fully without the biological warfare of eating cheese fries that fell on the ground. I worry about how they will develop budgeting skills without strategically rationing €11 in coins to fund six drinks, a chipper and a taxi home. If future generations skip all of that, how will they cope in the real world?

Most of all though, I worry about them taking it all too seriously. Life is too short to be worrying about sleep schedules and skin barriers. You only get a very short window to be utterly reckless and hideous beings, you have to embrace it.

Honestly, you can be many things in this life but you cannot be a feral 70-something year old hitting up clubs… or maybe that is the end goal here? Maybe all that clean living will have them all looking 21 far into their 80s and they’ll be kicking off their Friday night raves with a few collagen shots. And if that’s the plan, then fair play. It’ll be well deserved.

For the rest of us, who aged in dog years thanks to cheap vodka and poor decisions, I’m glad we made the most of it. Life got far too serious all of its own accord, but at least we have buckets of ridiculous memories, and we lived to tell the tales.

Margaret Lynch is a mother of two and a parenting columnist with The Journal.