Brat Summer™ is over. May she return one day to reign again.

But not until we're ready to greet her with open arms; liberated from having to explain to our parents, elders, and politicians what "brat" means, how it applies to the cultural landscape, and why for at least three to four millennia, we need to set it free.

Of course, Brat Summer was a necessity. Charli XCX ushered in the perfect musical counterpart to the resurgence of Y2K-era aesthetics while offering a palette cleanser for anyone experiencing Tortured Poets fatigue. And she didn't act alone: while Charli undoubtedly christened the season's official theme, her artistic contemporaries (Chappell Roan, Sabrina Carpenter and Billie Eilish especially) re-affirmed the importance of authenticity, self-discovery, and the commitment to doing whatever the f–k they wanted through their own music. To be privy to such a powerful pop era has been nothing short of electric, which ultimately explains the true appeal of Brat: by rejecting the notion that one must offer up a palatable persona for public perception, we were given a way to articulate our own frustration with social expectations that set us all up to fail. No, we may not all be out at the club every night, but we can finally push back against the systems that have made us all so unhappy.

It's no secret that the majority of us are struggling. The idea of owning a home is laughable. Grocery prices are soaring, making eggs and vegetables first-class delicacies. Strikes abound (and for good reason), while we face the wrath of our dying planet. Plus, presidential candidates and world leaders have begun pandering to Gen Z and millennial audiences through slang or social media while largely ignoring their legitimate anxieties. Why wouldn't we revert to the Brat of it all? Why wouldn't we reject notions of compliance and compromise as a last-ditch effort to regain a sense of self-autonomy? Brattiness has been a long time coming.

And summer's been its perfect platform. While some of us hate the season and prefer autumn dreariness (the sun makes me sick, okay?!), summer by its very nature grants us permission to abandon schedules, productivity, and to look hustle culture in the face and laugh. Summer is the testing ground for the versions of ourselves we tend to morph into come September. And while autumn's growing Demure trend seems — at surface level — a refined alternative to screaming "You're no fun!" at the VIP section of Outside Lands, it's merely an extension of what it means to be Brat.

Coined by TikToker Jools Lebron, "demure" has transcended the internet and become a pivotal component to this coming fall's vibes. Yet to be "demure" is hardly an act of kow-towing to the status quo. Lebron, a trans woman whose online presence is as compelling as it is entertaining, isn't using demureness or mindfulness as a way to suggest anybody dim their light. Instead, it's another approach to celebrating authenticity and asserting it under a different banner. It's Brat, should your version of pushing back be rooted in doing so a little less loudly.

Both are valuable. Both are important. And both reflect the momentum that's been gaining over the last year to act, to change, and to overhaul the broken parts of our broken systems. And as it so often does best, pop culture has helped articulate that. While Brat summer set in motion the beat needed to soundtrack a revolution, Lebron's suggestion that we be Very Demure (Very Mindful, Very Cutesy) has become a motto that keeps our pace steady and stops us from burning out. After all, our elementary and high school summers were usually exercises in shaking off the personas we'd settled into over the winter and spring. Thus, it only makes sense that this fall, we take the people we became in June, July, and August and bring them with us as we face the autumn more steadfast — and ready — to finish dismantling the structures seeking to stop our revolutions.