The Wuthering Heights movie hasn't even come out yet and the internet is already feral for it.
Actually, it’s been frothing at the mouth since Emerald Fennell announced her adaptation in July of 2024.
Bring back yearning! Passion! They all scream. The amount of posts I’ve seen about needing men who pine and write poetry and stare longingly across moors instead of sending "u up?" texts at 2am is uncanny for a society that just recently said having a boyfriend is embarrassing.
The discourse is massive, and it's telling us something important about what audiences want right now. They want romance. Not just romantic love - though that, too - but the romanticisation of everything! Of life and the mundane little things that make the world go round. They want moments that don't need to be optimised or productive, just beautiful as they are. (The libra in me LOVES this sentiment.)
For a while there, being earnest was labelled cringe.
Wanting things passionately was embarrassing. Being horny about a period drama = lame. Caring too much about anything = uncool.
But something shifted. Maybe it was when A$ap Rocky said “Since when has it become cool not to try? F*cking loser.”
But it definitely has something to do with the relentless BookTok smut takeover.
This was like a contagion—millions of people started publicly, shamelessly devouring romantasy novels (with increasingly crazy cover art). It was like watching Wattpad 2.0. come to life.
Then the "bring back yearning" movement started gaining traction.
People began openly mourning the death of men who actually pursue, who long, who feel things deeply enough to be pathetic about it.
And now, as if it’s just the natural progression of things, we’re celebrating slightly slutty movies again. We're allowing ourselves to want passion, intensity, the kind of emotional stakes that feel almost theatrical. Wuthering Heights is arriving at exactly the right cultural moment because people are desperate for this kind of media. For yearning. For romance that isn't afraid to be wild with desire.
But it's not just about movies and books.
This hunger for romance is bleeding into everything, and I mean that in the best way possible. People are romanticising their entire lives.
We’re seeing an uprise in things like supper clubs, where friends gather for elaborate home-cooked meals (I literally just threw one in the weekend). Or morning routines that involve lighting incense and listening to jazz while making coffee. Home cafés with aesthetic setups that turn a regular Tuesday morning into a whole experience.
People are even making research into a hobby, like organising their learning with colour-coded notes and dedicated stationery, because the act of learning should feel special.
Simple hobbies are also having a renaissance: crochet, cross-stitch, embroidery.
Things our grandmothers did that we're reclaiming, not because they're productive, but because they make life feel slower and more intentional.
Rural romanticism and "cottagecore" aesthetics are everywhere. Cosy home content, tradwife lifestyles (problematic elements aside) showcase the fantasy of a simpler, softer existence.
People are adding bag charms to make accessories they already own feel more special. They're turning admin nights into social events where friends gather to do their boring life tasks together. Because even paying bills can be romantic if you add wine, good company and cute pics.
This is what I mean when I say we’re romanticising everything we can.
These things are symptoms of a massive cultural shift away from optimisation and toward intentionality. Away from hustle and toward savouring life like it’s the sweetest pie you ever tasted.
Take note that none of these romantic moments are high-stakes. They're not about achievement or productivity or crushing goals. They're about making ordinary life feel worth living.
What people want right now is repeatable moments of low-stakes joy.
Not once-in-a-lifetime achievements or viral success. Just daily life that feels a little more special, a little more intentional, a little more like the main character moment it deserves to be.
And yes, best believe these moments are being documented.
It would be stupid to assume otherwise; we literally live online. However, it’s not performative in the old way - it's not "look how perfect my life is" or "watch me crush this goal." It's "look how beautiful this ordinary moment became when I paid attention to it."
It's creating a life that feels like a movie, not just one that looks good in photos.
People are curating their lives for digital memory, sure. But the curation is about softness, intentionality, romance, making the familiar special.
If you're still selling productivity hacks and optimisation, you're missing the moment. If your brand voice is all hustle and achievement, you're out of step with this shift.
What audiences are craving right now is permission.
Permission to slow down, to make things special for no reason other than it feels good. Permission to want passion and yearning and romance in a world that's told them for years to be cool and detached and efficient.
If your brand can focus on repeatable small joys, not one-time achievements, and sell softness, not success, you might just catch the romance wave. Create campaigns that feel like love letters, not sales pitches. Give people the language and permission to romanticise their own lives.
Romance is back for the same reason aspiration is.
Things are messy, and when things are messy, we take things into our own hands to make light of what we can. Not as escapism, but as resistance. As a way of insisting that life - ordinary, everyday life - deserves to be beautiful.
So if your marketing still sounds like a productivity coach, it's time to start sounding like a love letter instead.
-Sophie Randell, Writer
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