Why Gen Z women are looking for a man in finance

“I’m looking for a man in finance/Trust fund/6’5”/Blue eyes.” When Megan Boni posted this ditty on her TikTok account a few months ago, it was meant as a joke. She wanted to poke fun at the wish-list mentality of single women, herself included.

She couldn’t have predicted that her nineteen-second video would be viewed 26 million times and remixed into one of the summer’s viral hits. Women are now whispering to each other that maybe they really are looking for a man in finance, rather than an impoverished creative type still living with his parents at the age of thirty.

Boni has since reiterated that she’s “not actually looking for a man in finance,” and perhaps she needn’t bother given that she’s landed herself a record deal. But the damage is done. “Men in finance are hot again,” says Vogue.

We all deserve a second chance, even bankers in their branded gilets. It will pain earnest millennials to hear this. Many of us came of age in the wake of the 2008 crash, when it was drummed into us that feckless City boys were to blame for the financial instability. We would hold ourselves to a higher standard, naively “following our dreams” and prioritizing a career that would add meaning, if not necessarily riches, to our lives.

The kids now think that’s daft. They may well have a point. It probably is a lot easier to chase your dreams when you’re not worried about rent. Who hasn’t read a millennial think-piece about how hard life is and thought: well, you made your bed.

For an accurate portrait of the modern finance bro, look to Industry, the hit HBO show. The third season began airing this week in the US. It gives us a glimpse into London’s gritty world of high finance, or what the New Yorker termed “Thatcherite brutality.” The overarching message is that no matter where you hail from, if you hustle enough, you might make it big. Or die trying. Or at the very least, shag the posh girl.

No wonder young chancers love what the show represents. The City is a place where a combination of skill and cunning can catapult you to the top. “This is the closest thing to a meritocracy there is,” explains Harper, the twentysomething lead character, when we first meet her, “and I only ever want to be judged on the strength of my abilities.” Never mind that we later discover she has lied on her CV to get a foot in the door and that she’s a bit of a crook. Hers is a very Gen-Z mindset.

The show was written by my friends Mickey Down and Konrad Kay, both of whom worked in banking before deciding to take their chances writing a TV drama about their experience. “The luster really came off finance post-2008,” Kon tells me. “Millennials felt ashamed about making money the focus of their career, while Gen Z, mostly thanks to smartphones, can monetize their identity. They get paid for being in the world and telling people how they live. There is no shame in flaunting your status and wealth.”

People don’t just walk into highly paid City jobs. It takes some planning if you want to end up gravitating around the Gherkin. This might explain why subjects such as maths and further maths are growing in popularity, with a record number of students taking A-level maths this year. Sure, governments will try to take credit for this shift away from more artistic subjects, but I’d be willing to bet a more compelling case for doing maths is that it might mean you earn loads of cash later down the line and get a girlfriend, even if you aren’t 6’5”. In the US, banking is now the top industry college graduates want to go into, up from fifth place in 2021.

I WhatsApp a twentysomething friend who skipped university but managed to wrangle a swinging-dick job in London. He has kept his eyes on the prize – money — and marches off to work each day in a smart blue suit. I think you can tell he doesn’t have a student loan to worry about.

Does he agree that his generation has different priorities to mine? “Lara, my friends and I are all openly obsessed with making money and changing our lives,” he says. “We don’t care about doing noble professions, like you do.” I send a laughing/crying face emoji back, which I know dates me.

He gives me a list of the groups and people he follows online for financial advice and tips. The groups are all called things like “Money Hustle,” “Get Rich,” and “Entrepreneurs Being Entrepreneurs.” One guy named Miles (or M.iles) is 25 and has almost half a million followers. His Instagram bio says that he is “probably wearing a @SIGNET^® quarter zip” and indeed he does seem to be in almost every photo, aside from when he is dressed in black tie or has his top off. He has blue eyes.

It’s tricky to tell if Miles’s account is a parody or not. There are photos of him cosplaying as Patrick Bateman. Either way, Miles is living the Industry life. He’s in a helicopter looking out at the Shard, then he’s off skiing with a bikini-clad ski bunny, popping bottles of champagne, before it’s on to a country wedding in a sports car, then back to Threadneedle Street and presumably the job that pays for all of this.

I can see why young men might want to be Miles. I can also see why Miles might not be a bad investment opportunity for women with certain… aspirations. “What’s better than selling out? Letting your partner sell out so you can afford to be a part-time artist and socialite, of course,” says Vogue. If you’re looking for a man in finance, the queue’s over there.

This article was originally published in The Spectator’s UK magazine. Subscribe to the World edition here.