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.
Your beloved Coastal Grandma? She just inherited a beachfront estate in East Hampton. Suddenly she's trading her thrifted linen blazer for Loro Piana and hiring someone to document her morning beach walks. Welcome to the Hamptons aesthetic—and honestly, it's taking over TikTok faster than you can say "summer share house."
It's 8 PM, you're in a fitting room surrounded by a graveyard of "almost right" options, and your college roommate's garden wedding is tomorrow morning. Every dress feels either too formal or too red-carpet-y, and you're starting to wonder if you should just fake the flu. I see this scenario play out with my clients constantly. After years of styling people for weddings, I've started to think that getting dressed for a wedding isn't just about picking an outfit—it's about solving a complex equation with multiple variables. Or like solving one of those word problems from high school math, except instead of trains leaving stations, you're calculating heel height versus grass density. Once you figure out the formula though? Everything...
