Agency vs. whimsy

I love when a word suddenly clatters into the zeitgeist, rattling around our social media feeds and news outlets like loose silverware. Right now, there are two terms that have made for odd but maybe predictable 2026 bedfellows: Agency and whimsy.

These words do share one thing, and that’s how they seem to have taken root by promising freedom from/rejection of. But where the two diverge? Ohhh, mama… we’ll get to that. 

Let’s begin with agency: When used by the tech industry — those high lords of relatability — being “high agency” refers to one who just acts, rather than seek approval or follow the herd. It’s all about independence, personal freedom, and going against the grain. It’s the latest hot buzzword from the “Move fast and break stuff” boys, who have definitely never hurt anyone in the process. A Harper’s Magazine feature on tech’s new generation reports that it’s common for job candidates to be asked whether they’re “mimetic” or “agentic.”

(Imagine referring to yourself as high agency in the 2010s. Conversations around the topic would have gotten choked by requests for people to “check their privilege.” Our deep desire to shout others down for any perceived slight in that era made us not terribly whimsical — despite those jaunty pussy hats!)

“The valorization of ‘high agency’ is emblematic of a moment when risk-taking is overvalued,” wrote guest essayist Sophie Haigney in The New York Times. “It’s an ethos for a gambler’s time, and we’re living in one.” 

A desire to exhibit high agency does feel very ~of~ these times. And I’ll make an honest defense of the idea: There are a whole lot of old-school ways of being that no longer work. Take, for example, having a normal job and feeling financially secure. How vintage! But there’s clear pushback from the younger generation, especially around how they expect to make money. Prediction markets are aggressively marketing to college-age users, and the top two career aspirations among Gen Alpha are YouTuber and TikTok creator. Not sure who will be left to fix all of these influencers’ cars or mend their broken bones, but maybe the future also means never leaving home!

That brings us to our second word du jour: Whimsy. Like agency, the desire to be whimsical appears to be a criticism of the status quo. If the tastemakers and psychologists are to be believed, the surge in interest around whimsy — Google searches for “whimsy” are up 72 per cent in the last 12 months — shows we’re tiring of how everything feels too carefully curated, and much too stressful. The antidote to both? Being a little playful.

And this is where the divergence appears: Those seeking peak agency, it seems, do so for the sake of being a contrarian. As Haigney pointed out in her NYT piece: “Agency is about action, but it tells us nothing of direction.”

“To valorize agency without also emphasizing its purpose allows us to ignore harder questions like: How do I live a good life? And what about the collective good?” she wrote. “The smash-and-grab mentality elides these questions. Have we forgotten that life might be better lived in concert with others?”

On the other hand, people seem to be drawn to whimsy more and more because they see it as an opportunity to actually come together. Someone with a too-curated life — where the social profiles, activities, and opinions are carefully tuned to be “on-brand” — doesn’t feel approachable or accessible. You’ll attract far more bees with some weirdo honey. 

What I was a little surprised to see was how much a desire for whimsy has entered the dating world: Apparently the word “whimsy” has begun to infiltrate dating profiles. And while I’d probably want to pull my hair out if I saw it used too many times — I was single not all that long ago, so I can tell you how quickly you tire of profile trends (ahem, any reference to The Office) — but the desire for release sounds refreshing. 

A friend recently took a spin on the apps after a long relationship, commenting that by the time you read through a person’s political leanings, red flags, and dealbreakers, the folks on the apps don’t seem like much fun. Maybe that’s why there’s been a sudden return to personal ads — including via popular newsletters and New York Magazine. 

Dating apps make it virtually impossible to create an interesting profile while inviting an air of mystery/curiosity. They feel more like tiny catalogs: photo, age, profession, desire to have children, and a few opportunities to sound moderately interesting. Personals, though: These are a few lines of free-form writing that you can spin to your liking, with some limited but pertinent details, and zero photos. The ones I’ve read so far are honestly a gas. May these little freaky goblins get theirs!

Whereas a lack of direction can make the highly agentic a moralless pursuit, the inherent directionlessness in being whimsical is exactly what makes it special. When you focus on a high-agency, self-involved life, you fail to consider its ramifications for others; however, buying a small collection of seashell-shaped throw pillows can only be a net positive for us all. There’s an inherent sense of shared silliness when it comes to whimsy, whether you’re sharing that joke with yourself or the public. We need that connection far more than we need another goober thinking they need to “disrupt” an industry or field (I am begging: No more protein companies).

Amy Rose Spiegel, the editor running Personals for New York Magazine, told Airmail that the listings she’s received have been marked by “originality and verve” — so much so that she’s been asked if she’s ghostwriting them. 

“The only thing that these people seem to have in common,” she says, “is the sense that opening themselves up to whatever happens next is worthwhile.”

There is purpose in whimsy, and that purpose is often to make a playful little connection. So if we want to deem next season the summer of whimsy, expect my goofy ass at the picnic with a batch of strawberry-pretzel jello salad.