Written by SOAP STUDIOS
Photography SAM DAMESHEK
Production KIM HUNT
Featuring CAILIN RUSSO
Graphic Design SARAH SMITH
Shot at SOAP STUDIOS, LOS ANGELES CA
The word grunge is most often attached to a mental image of Doc Martens, Nirvana posters, and dingy flannels. For Cailin Russo, a genre-defying musician and underground fashion icon, grunge isn’t just a TikTok OOTD hashtag. Grunge is a style movement with history and a rich community—but also the tightrope walk between what makes people comfortable and what doesn’t.
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In conversation with Cailin Russo, we redefined what the word “grunge” means—as well as her personal style, what she calls Cai-Core, that has been heavily inspired by the grunge aesthetic. Before we reach present-day, however, we have to discuss the mecca of grunge style: Tumblr.
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2011–2016 was peak Tumblr—a time before algorithms, when creatives had the freedom to curate their own visual worlds in real-time. No hashtag games, no “for you” pages deciding what you should like. Just raw aesthetics, diary-like vulnerability, and a community built on mood boards and midnight oversharing.
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Cailin spent hours deep in the Tumblr vortex while living in Osaka, Japan, pulling inspiration from niche fashion, architecture, and design communities. She credits those late-night scroll sessions for sharpening her creative palette and introducing her to underground style tribes: Japanese punk minimalists, Eastern Bloc post-Soviet glamour, Brooklyn’s DIY rave scene. Before she even realized it, she had 30,000 followers and a space where she could shape her aesthetic—untouched by the current paradigm of algorithm-appeasing.
As two Tumblr babies, we bonded over how algorithms have transformed style content into ephemeral, product-focused performance art.
So what exactly is Cai-Core? Think Eastern European meets West Coast royalty. Dark reds, deep blues, gold, silver, black. It’s old money, but with an edge. Accessories and upcycling are non-negotiable. It’s polished, but it’s not trying too hard. It references 90s heroin chic, Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette, Juergen Teller’s flash-heavy portraits, and vintage Comme des Garçons—but remixed through a Gen-Z lens that refuses to be ironic about wanting to look cool.
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I asked Cailin what her dark side actually looks like. She pointed to her songwriting—stories that make people uncomfortable. “There’s no shame in telling your truth,” she said.
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She told me about a song she wrote where she debated if she should confess to a DUI—or tell the truth that she once masturbated with her toothbrush instead. It’s raw, it’s awkward, it’s unfiltered. But that’s the point. The only reason it sounds shocking is because we live in a world where people pretend to be flawless.
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In this era of hyper-curation—where everyone is either desperate to present themselves as perfect or playing god in the comments section—Cailin’s approach feels liberating. It’s not about shock value; it’s about reclaiming agency over your narrative. The taboo, the ugly, the absurd—all of it is fair game.
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When I asked Cailin who she’d crown as the ultimate grunge queen, her first answer caught me off guard: Doja Cat. I was too distracted by the pop star branding to see it at first. But then she broke it down. “It’s the ‘Bitch, I said what I said’ energy,” she explained. And suddenly, it all clicked.
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If there’s one thing that’s obvious about Cai-Core, it’s this: expect daring, expect sexy, expect brutal honesty. It’s not about looking like you don’t care—it’s about actually not caring what anyone thinks.
