The sudden rise in matcha’s popularity is a reflection of the pattern in how everyday products gain cultural value through stories, aesthetics, and aspiration. Here we decipher this phenomenon!
Recently, almost out of nowhere, there’s been a noticeable surge in the popularity of matcha. Suddenly, everyone seems to be drinking it, posting perfectly styled photos of their green lattes, swearing by its calming energy and supposed health benefits. It’s showing up not just in iced drinks and smoothies, but in desserts, skincare products, and every possible lifestyle corner. While it’s perfectly fine, great even if you genuinely enjoy it, what’s interesting is the way people everywhere seemed to collectively decide to broadcast their matcha obsession all at once, as if it had just been discovered. You can’t help but wonder why everyone has suddenly become obsessed with matcha, which has been around for centuries.
It was only recently that a conversation about brown and white bread opened a discussion on the impact of false marketing on our buying behavior when my friend confessed to believing one was a healthier choice than the other. She admitted to being shocked on discovering that nutritionally, there’s barely any significant difference between the two. In fact, in some cases, the brown bread wasn’t just equal in value but also tasted noticeably worse. We talked about how brown bread, despite being so similar to white bread in content, was packaged, priced, and promoted in a way that made it seem aspirational, as though choosing it meant you were making an informed, refined, and somehow more moral choice. It has become a symbol of self-control, wellness, and of being someone who “cares” about their body. What’s fascinating is how easily these messages take root and how quickly a product can be elevated from ordinary to elite simply by creating a narrative that makes people feel they are doing something good for themselves.
Also Read: 5 content creators who are bringing India’s regional recipes to the spotlight!
This context fits perfectly with the now-popular beverage, matcha. No doubt, consuming matcha can come with some serious health benefits, but the more interesting conversation lies in how it has become an aspirational choice. Today, we often see people professing their love for matcha, posting their favorite recipes, talking about its benefits, while some openly admit hating its taste. It’s clear that matcha has grown beyond being just a drink. It is now a lifestyle statement that signals intention, clean living, discipline, and, perhaps more importantly, the need to feel part of a larger, more curated conversation.
What we consume becomes a reflection of who we are or who we want to be seen as, which is the same when you think about how wine, artisanal coffee, or avocado toast rose to popularity in the past. In most cases, taste is just one small part of the experience. Food has turned into a modern time social currency that allows them to express themselves, connect with others, and feel part of something, especially in a time where so much feels divided and disconnected. What you eat, where you eat it, how you present it, and how often you share it has become a kind of unspoken language, communicating everything from cultural awareness to social status. Food is no longer just a matter of personal taste or nutritional need, but a direct link to our identity, sense of belonging, and even the way we build our brand in both physical and digital spaces. Platforms like Instagram have played a major role in defining our relationship with food, turning it from something private and practical into something performative and public. It’s easy to see why matcha fits perfectly into this visual-first culture, where young people are constantly curating their lives to be more intentional, conscious, stylish, and more aligned with trends. The demand is so high that Japan is apparently struggling to meet the global demand.
We’ve reached a point in time where the functionality or actual utility of a product is rarely the first thing we think of before buying it. More often than not, the decision comes down to how well a product fits into a trend, which depends on how culturally relevant it feels. It’s less about, “What does this do for me?” and more about, “What does this say about me?" A perfect example of this is the sudden explosion in the popularity of Labubu dolls, which seem to have the internet completely divided.
The popularity of these dolls started when people spotted fashion and culture icons like Blackpink’s Lisa using them. This small gesture by a celebrity of her stature was enough to shift the entire perception of the product. The internet today is filled with a section of people who are genuinely charmed by its quirky, slightly creepy cuteness, loving it for the collectible appeal and playful design. On the other hand are those who scroll through the photos and cannot for the life of them understand the hype. Then there’s the third group who are buying dupes or knockoffs just to feel included, even if they don’t entirely connect with the object itself. This is the power of influence in our culture, where our decisions are shaped not by need but by visibility. If someone we admire or follow chooses something, we start to believe it has value. A value that's not necessarily functional, but more cultural.
This isn’t the first time consumer habits have been shaped by social media trends, that include many that aged poorly. From fast fashion hauls to viral kitchen gadgets or wellness fads that end up collecting dust in your room, there have always been trends that often prioritize aesthetics over need. It's easy to wonder why it matters? That it is just another passing trend that’ll vanish from our feeds sooner than we realise it was there. Maybe that's exactly the problem. What starts as fun or aspirational quickly turns into waste, feeding into a cycle of unnecessary consumerism. In the need to get into the trends, our choices often end up feeling less like personal expressions and more like rehearsed lines from a broader cultural script.
Knowing the cultural impact of a beverage and questioning the way we live may seem strange, but it’s equally relevant.t. It’s not about criticizing matcha lovers but about highlighting our human tendency to latch onto trends without asking whether they truly resonate with us, or if they just make us look good.
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