Last summer, was, definitively,  Brat. Born of Charli XCX's seminal fifth album, everything was about dressing Brat, living Brat, being Brat. People asked each other what "brat" meant, before assigning a definition like "irreverent," or inanimate, consumable objects like Aperol Spritzes or Capri cigarettes. Tank tops with no bras underneath. We were happy, living once again in a monoculture of the likes hadn't been seen since Katy Perry's Teenage Dream. And more importantly, after what felt like years of heatless curling, lemon water-drinking, journaling and...