Same Old, Same Old — Now Rebranded With Cutting-Edge Urban Language
- michaelcohen951
- Jan 21
- 5 min read
There’s a special kind of modern vocabulary that appears in Western urban liberal culture the way sourdough starters appear in share houses: suddenly, everywhere, spoken with conviction, and treated like a lifestyle. It’s not slang. It’s not poetry. It’s not even really “new language.” It’s repackaging.
The process is simple: you take an ancient, ordinary human thing—eating meat, being broke, having feelings, wanting attention, buying junk, avoiding your family—and you rename it with a phrase that sounds ethical, clinical, minimalist, therapeutic, or tech-adjacent. Ideally the new word should feel like it belongs in a podcast title, a workplace HR email, and a cafe menu printed in a font that looks like it was designed to reduce dopamine.
This is how “meat” becomes “protein.” How “shopping” becomes “conscious consumption.” How “I’m annoyed” becomes “I’m dysregulated.” It’s not necessarily dishonest. Sometimes it’s kinder. Sometimes it’s more precise. But often it’s a way to make the same old behaviour feel like a modern-day upgrade, like you’ve downloaded a new operating system for your personality.
Below are eight premium examples of this phenomenon—each one a perfectly normal human reality, rebranded into urban wellness vocabulary, social justice language, mindfulness culture phrasing, or startup-style self-improvement terminology. (And yes: this article is aggressively SEO-friendly, because nothing says authenticity like optimised authenticity.)
1) Protein Option (formerly known as: meat)
Nothing says “I live in a high-density inner-city suburb” like ordering “a protein option.” It’s the culinary equivalent of calling your car “a mobility solution.” You’re not eating chicken. You’re “choosing a protein.” You’re not chewing steak. You’re “increasing satiety.”
The genius of protein option menu language is that it removes the awkward fact that the protein used to have eyes. It turns meat into a neutral macro-nutrient, like you’re fuelling a gym body or a tech body or a morally complicated body. “Would you like to add a protein?” sounds less like lunch and more like performance nutrition, clean eating meal planning, and high-protein lifestyle optimisation.
2) Plant-Based Moment (formerly known as: eating vegetables)
A salad used to be a salad. Now it’s “a plant-based moment.” This phrase suggests you’re not just consuming greens—you’re participating in a cultural shift. It makes a plate of roasted cauliflower sound like a political stance.
“Plant-based moment” is especially popular among people who still eat cheese but want to feel spiritually aligned with ethical eating trends, sustainable lifestyle choices, and eco-conscious food culture. It’s not vegan. It’s not vegetarian. It’s vibes. You’re not avoiding meat. You’re “exploring plant-forward options.”
It’s vegetables, but with mindful consumption branding and a faint aroma of moral superiority
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3) Somatic Response (formerly known as: feelings)
In the old days, you said, “That upset me.” Now you say, “I’m having a somatic response.” This is the kind of phrase that turns basic emotions into a TED Talk.
A “somatic response” is technically real—your body does react to stress. But culturally, it’s become a way to make ordinary feelings sound like advanced psychology. You’re not nervous—you’re “in a nervous system activation cycle.” You’re not angry—you’re “processing a trauma-informed trigger response.”
It’s the perfect phrase for therapy culture language, nervous system regulation tips, trauma-informed communication, and emotional wellness vocabulary—especially if you want to sound enlightened while still being furious.
4) Energetic Cost (formerly known as: “I can’t be bothered”)
“I don’t want to go” is too blunt. “I’m tired” is too human. But “the energetic cost is too high” sounds like you’re doing maths, not avoiding people.
This phrase is beloved in urban wellness culture, where social plans are treated like micro-loans. Every dinner invitation becomes a budget decision. “I’d love to, but the energetic cost is high” is basically “no” wearing linen pants and holding a matcha.
It’s ideal for burnout recovery language, introvert self-care routines, protecting your peace, and work-life balance boundaries—while still letting you stay home and watch seven episodes of something you won’t remember.
5) Deinfluencing (formerly known as: not buying stuff)
“Deinfluencing” is what happens when consumerism gets tired and tries to reinvent itself as wisdom. It’s basically: “I bought this, it’s pointless, don’t be like me.”
The hilarious part is that “deinfluencing” is still content. It’s still performance. It’s still someone filming themselves saying, “You don’t need this,” while lit by a $400 ring light.
But it sounds noble. It sounds like anti-consumerism trends, minimalist lifestyle hacks, budget-friendly shopping advice, and low-waste living tips. It’s not just regret. It’s a movement. It’s shopping, but with guilt, redemption, and a creator code.
6) Third Space (formerly known as: a cafe)
A cafe used to be where you got coffee. Now it’s a “third space,” meaning: not home, not work, but a place where you exist publicly while pretending you’re not desperate for community.
“Third space” makes your $7 oat latte sound like sociology. It transforms sitting near strangers into “urban belonging.” It’s a key phrase in modern city lifestyle, community connection spaces, remote work cafe culture, and urban loneliness solutions.
You’re not just loitering—you’re engaging in third-space participation. You’re not broke—you’re choosing a shared environment.
7) Microdose of Joy (formerly known as: a small pleasure)
A cookie used to be a cookie. Now it’s “a microdose of joy.” This is the wellness-industrial way of making pleasure sound controlled, approved, and responsibly portioned.
It’s never “I ate a donut because life is meaningless.” It’s “I’m intentionally microdosing joy through a sweet treat.” It makes everything sound like a self-care prescription.
Perfect for dopamine menu self-care, small daily happiness habits, mental health lifestyle tips, and mindfulness for busy people—because God forbid anyone simply enjoy something without turning it into a framework.
8) Soft Launch (formerly known as: starting something quietly)
“Soft launch” is one of the greatest modern inventions because it turns basic cowardice into strategy. You’re not hiding your new relationship—you’re soft launching it. You’re not testing the waters—you’re executing a phased rollout..
It’s corporate language applied to personal life, and it’s everywhere: soft launch dating trend, Instagram soft launch relationship, personal brand strategy, modern social media etiquette.
A soft launch means: “I want attention, but not consequences.” It’s a gentle announcement with plausible deniability—like PR training for your feelings.
The Real Point: Old Behaviour, New Packaging
Underneath the sleek phrasing, nothing has changed. People still eat, shop, avoid, cope, desire, and reinvent themselves every Tuesday. But in Western urban liberal culture, the right vocabulary makes it feel upgraded—like your messy human life has been reissued as a limited-edition product.
And that’s the real charm of these words: they don’t just describe reality. They sanitize it, elevate it, and sell it back to you as personal growth.
Same old, same old—now with better branding.
Michael Cohen is a Sydney-based Australian journalist and writer. He has written for outlets including The Independent Australia, Green-Left, The Opinion Pages, The Telegraph, and HuffPost, and often explores the intersections of politics, history, and culture.
Links to recent work:
– Entangled Histories: Jews, Nazis and the Myths of Antiquity (Independent Australia)
– The Jews and Constructed Anti-Semitism in Europe (The Opinion Pages)
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