This winter, fashion has finally remembered that most of us don't travel exclusively by chauffeured car from climate-controlled building to climate-controlled building. We've had how many seasons now of runway looks meant for people who've apparently never stood at a bus stop in February?
Remember skinny jeans? How they had us in a fifteen-year death grip that nobody questioned? We're all swimming in fabric now, and honestly, the pendulum overcorrected in the most dramatic way possible. But the thing about these voluminous silhouettes taking over everyone's feed—they're really not as terrifying as that first scroll made them seem. Misunderstood, maybe. They're architectural elements in search of someone who knows what to do with them.
The coquette aesthetic—ribbons, bows, all that ballet-inspired everything—is basically the fashion equivalent of ordering a strawberry milkshake with extra whipped cream and zero ironic distance about it. It's a lot, I'll admit that upfront. Not for everyone. I went back and forth on whether to even write this. But this trend refuses to die. What started as one of those TikTok microtrends has somehow evolved into something you're now seeing in actual editorial spreads, high-street collections, the works. So if you're genuinely drawn to this aesthetic—or you're just curious about navigating current trends without literal frostbite—this is for you.
You know that moment when you're watching Succession and realize everyone looks expensive but nobody's wearing anything particularly... bold? Just varying shades of oatmeal, camel, and chocolate that somehow radiate "I have a trust fund" energy? Well, that's not an accident. That's strategy. And this Black Friday, we're stealing it—or at least the blueprint. The specific pieces are negotiable; the strategy isn't.
Every November, the same tragedy unfolds: Intelligent women lose their minds over 70% off. They buy leather pants they'll never wear. Neon accessories that require sunglasses to look at. That third black blazer because this one has slightly different buttons. And sequins, lots of sequins. By January, these "amazing deals" hang in closets like expensive monuments to poor judgment. Meanwhile, the woman with forty-seven browser tabs and a spreadsheet named "Operation Winter Wardrobe" gets called obsessive. But here's the thing—she's the genius. While everyone else is drunk on discounts, she's shopping like a sniper: one target, one shot, problem solved. She doesn't shop the sale; she shops the gaps in her closet. Think of it as hiring next year's wardrobe...
