Thanks to my hard-core D Kibbe body type, I look anemic wearing beige and appear to be an oversized Tiger Mom in coordinated vest/cardigan sweater sets. Alas, these are my crosses to bear.
Even with my skin’s aversion to bland colors, I enjoyed the Quiet Luxury trend we experienced over the past few years. Because I never watched Succession and I no longer have to work with any Pata-Gucci vested finance bros, Quiet Luxury reminded me less of overt wealth signaling and more of Katherine Hepburn laughing by the water, wearing perfectly pleated trousers paired with a soft, cashmere sweater. She was paradoxically both avant-garde for her time and yet somehow, timeless. From my viewpoint, the rise of the Quiet Luxury trend hailed a much-needed return to tailoring and a rebuff of the polyester chokehold loungewear had on women’s fashion since those early, masked days of COVID (as I sit here typing in my quarter-zip and stretchy pants…). And, let’s be honest, I will support any trend which encourages the creation of more cashmere turtlenecks.
With runways starting to push heavily towards the early-2000’s maximalism of bold logos and highly conspicuous branding, it is safe to say we have all tired of beige, cream, and the offensive marriage of gray and beige, which we mashed together into the stomach-turning combo known as greige. Yawn.
Amid The Row’s highly visible clash with the beautiful Neelam Ahooja due to client mistreatment and their questionable pricing decisions ($870 for a polyester shopping bag, anyone?), the brand who stood squarely in “Quiet Luxury” territory for years began receiving a significant amount of hate; hate which was anything but quiet. It is a sign of the times when those inside the cult begin to raise their hand and question barely-there leather sandals priced at $1,200 USD.
Even I, who have always been a fan of more neutral palettes and the idea of a succinct, all-coordinating capsule wardrobe, found myself getting bored with the same wardrobe flat lay style inspo: cream sweater, white tee shirt, striped sweater, black jeans, blue jeans, black loafers. Repeat. It is like we squeezed the personality out of absolutely every wardrobe decision. We created a uniform for upper middle-class women and for those seeking to look like upper-middle class women. No wonder we got bored with it all.
And yet, when I picture Hepburn in her expertly tailored trousers and melancholy smile looking so beautiful and chic, I wonder to myself, “Where did we go wrong?”
Thinking back to Friends, a paragon of 90s fashion, each of the three women had distinct styles. The stylist, Debra McGuire, was said to have used textures, patterns, and specific color palettes to define each character’s personality, and more importantly, enhance each actress’s unique beauty. Monica Geller wore jewel tones to highlight Courtney Cox’s dark hair and bright eyes. Phoebe Buffay wore wild prints and eclectic skirts to enhance her quirky “I don’t really care what you think” vibe.
It’s an art I fear we have lost with the flattening of fashion culture into OOTD TikTok videos: the ability to express our own personality through clothing.
The meaning of Quiet Luxury is to invest in the highest quality clothing you can reasonably afford, use a tailor to make it as flattering to your unique figure as possible, and wear the item for the next ten years, all while looking and feeling your absolute best.
Because we boiled Quiet Luxury down into one tedious silhouette, replaced creativity with minimalism, and crowned a few luxury brands as the epitome of the trend, we bastardized the true meaning of this style. The meaning of Quiet Luxury is to invest in the highest quality clothing you can reasonably afford, use a tailor to make it as flattering to your unique figure as possible, and wear the item for the next ten years, all while looking and feeling your absolute best. It was never meant to drain all color from our closets or create cookie-cutter looks, and it definitely was not meant to box us into an unflattering color palette simply because it is what everyone else is wearing.
To feel beautiful wearing a beloved outfit is a joy and a treat, and something I consider a quiet, little luxury.
It has taken me many years to come to terms with the fact that I do not look good in beige (re: opening paragraph). At 37 years old and after decades of fashion self-education, I now know to avoid building a closet around a color which does not enhance my features, especially as I age, and the forgiving veil of youth begins to slip. So, what do I do? I avoid beige. Even when everything in the stores is some variant of it. Even when most of the fashion inspiration on Pinterest includes it as a staple piece. I’m not doing it because I’m better than everyone; I’m doing it because I want to feel my best in what I wear, regardless of whether it’s on or off trend.
I, for one, am ready for the trend which encourages women to find their unique style to highlight their personal beauty and to ignore what everyone else says. If you look good in blue, wear blue. If you have always hated sweater sets, don't buy them.
To feel beautiful wearing a beloved outfit is a treat, and something I consider a quiet, little luxury. In the end, isn't this what fashion is all about?
-Elise
