ultraniche

A few months ago, I stumbled upon the term “ultra niche.” If I may indulge in a bit of self-referential foolishness (as one does, especially when one is an Aquarius stellium), I find that the word niche has, over the past decade, become strangely impersonal—almost as if it still lacks the extreme personalization it originally implied.

Digital content now gravitates towards references so hyper-specific that they feel as though someone has been secretly monitoring our most obscure habits and quirks. It has evolved into something tailored to our deepest, most unspoken thoughts—an experience similar to being targeted not just by an algorithm, but by a digital therapist with a fondness for intrusive accuracy. The material we truly engage with now is that which delivers microscopic levels of detail from sources so specialized they could easily be mistaken for the babbling of an obsessed expert.

The term “ultra niche” has been embraced by Gen Z to describe things so specific, so deeply personal, that they transcend conventional understanding—so much so that one’s own ultra-niche interests become a defining personality trait. At the same time, this fosters a paradox: while these interests feel exclusive and individualized, they somehow create small, like-minded communities where others interpret the same ideas through entirely different yet equally obsessive perspectives.

Initially coined in the world of perfumes—where fragrance storytelling has become more about evoking fragmented memories than simply smelling pleasantly (see Toskovat or Filippo Sorcinelli for reference)—the term has since exploded into mainstream discourse. And, in true Gen Z fashion, it has driven Millennials to the brink of insanity. (Let’s face it—Gen Z loves renaming things that already had perfectly good names.) But beyond linguistic stunts, the rise of “ultra niche” reflects a larger cultural shift: a demand for extreme personalization within the framework of shared experience. We crave content that makes us feel uniquely seen, yet we also long to exist within a community of people who understand that uniqueness in their own way.

As an initial exploration of this phenomenon, I launched a TikTok account, casually related to the ultra-niche, where I experiment with ultra-niche storytelling based on my own absurdly specific interests. The response from the Spanish-speaking community has been overwhelmingly positive—aside from the occasional irate Millennial and the ever-present internet critic eager to remind me that I am, in fact, “very bad at making content.” Nevertheless, my growing audience proves one thing: organic communities crave representation, individuality, and a space to dissect their hyper-personalized thoughts—essentially, a video-format Reddit.

Through oxymorons, paradoxes, irony, and self-aware egoism, I am sensing our collective need for both radical individuality and small-scale relatability.

We now belong to a generation that wants to be completely unique—while making sure they belong to a group of people who feel exactly the same way.