Farmcore: Romanticizing Farm Work and the Cowboy Aesthetic
For years, many of my friends and I—urban, educated, and largely disconnected from rural roots—have been captivated by the romantic idea of leaving it all behind to work on a farm. Our Instagram feeds show us curated images of the life we dream of: a glowing woman with dirt-smudged hands, cradling a perfect bunch of radishes, her hair catching the sunlight just so.
To clarify, young people don’t yearn to work on just any old farm. The vision tends to gloss over the realities of the industrial agriculture that feeds most of America, and the tough lives of the people who largely support it. Alternatively, the curated charm of organic, small-scale farms ideally located somewhere like the lush hills of Vermont or wildflower-ridden islands of Washington State draw the most appeal. But it isn’t all fantasy—USDA data shows both a growing trend of young people entering farming and a steady rise in organic product sales. So why does farm life resonate so deeply with a generation raised on the internet, not the land?
Sam Kraft is a young woman in her late 20’s who spent the last 5 years living in New York City working in reproductive health, and is now en route to work on a small, queer farm in rural Massachusetts. Sam explains that she had been thinking about leaving the city for some time, as she found her life in New York ultimately unfulfilling. She comments, “Everything I loved about New York when I first got there, I started to hate by the end. Things that seemed authentic at first quickly became overpriced and overhyped. On a small farm, everything is DIY and community-oriented, compared to in Brooklyn where everything has a price to it.”
Living on a farm is a fantasy that dwells somewhere between a desire for purpose and a longing for simplicity. “I just want to wake up, go outside, have my coffee on the porch and ask – what are we going to do today?” Sam explains. In particular, she seeks to experience this simplicity while joining a community, one that is openly queer, where she expects tight bonds to be formed quickly. Immersed in this community, she looks forward to learning the practical skills that will allow her to subsist independently of food systems that not only lack resilience to the changing climate, but accelerate this trajectory.
Sam admits that scrolling small farmers’ profiles on Instagram played a part in her romanticization of farm life, leading up to her decision to leave New York. Mostly, she followed young women in their journeys on holistic organic farms who post snippets from the most aesthetic parts of their days: harvesting plump tomatoes, feeding happy chickens, or jarring goods for the winter are common denominators. These accounts fall under an aesthetic that has become known as “farmcore”. While Instagram was initially part of her journey to farm life, Sam says that, actually, “not using technology for a whole day really excites me”. The paradox of the farmcore aesthetic is that it digitizes a lifestyle whose main allure lies in its perceived realness.
The cultural and aesthetic appeal of farm life is a response to the ways in which young people feel our world has reached an unprecedented level of superficiality. Living in a political landscape ruled by tech billionaires and confronted with misinformation spewed from all directions, many of us have begun to crave the raw, untethered life we think a small farm in the countryside might give us. The idea of having control over our circumstances, being disconnected from the onslaught of news, and getting some sun on our skin is so drastically different from our overwhelmingly virtual lives.
Even for those who choose to remain planted in the city, the idea of a rural life seems to have infiltrated our style and music tastes. Tyler Childers has become kitchen music and Stagecoach reigned in over 80,000 attendees this past year. Current fashion trends embrace woodsy camo patterns, and cowboy boots are a staple in any good wardrobe. Simultaneously, the majority of us still rise to the sound of car honks and don a pair of sneakers most days. These trends resemble a growing subculture—one in which rural aesthetics are embraced not out of necessity, but as a lifestyle choice or form of expression. This subculture tends to hold onto their left-leaning beliefs, while longing for a life traditionally occupied by a more conservative crowd.
In the end, the form of rurality that is seeping into our lives is just a glimpse at how our relationships to land, labor and authenticity are changing, particularly as young people in the age of disconnection from nature and burnout. A return to the land may be just the transition our upcoming generations need after all.