I woke up one morning to find my feed transformed into a Gwyneth Paltrow mood board.
Okay, so the transformation wasn’t that sudden. But over the last few years, as fashion and beauty trends have been green-lit and canceled as quickly as Netflix shows, one has demonstrated real sticking power on social media: “quiet luxury.”
The trend, characterized by what fashion stylist Ashley Afriyie described as “timeless and understated pieces made with the highest material quality,” has spurred countless shopping guides and over 350 million TikTok views. And while plenty of “aesthetics” have garnered equal or even greater attention (“clean girl” has amassed nearly seven billion views), “quiet luxury” has managed to take hold in a way few trends have since the rise of social media.
But why, among the “tomato girls” and “soft goths,” has “quiet luxury” managed to transcend the trends to become a full-fledged movement?
“Quiet luxury,” also known as “stealth wealth,” is expressed in neutral colors, quality fabrics, structured handbags, and—perhaps most importantly—an aversion to logos. Prints should be kept conservative (i.e., Breton stripes) and to a minimum. Think Paltrow in cream-colored cardigans and thick oversized sweaters in the courtroom, Sofia Richie Grainge exchanging vows in a ladylike lace column and slicked-back low bun, or anything worn by Shiv and Kendall Roy.
Such a staid look blowing up on social media might seem surprising, given the sea of print-filled, brightly colored, and youthful “-cores” that dominate the feeds. But with the number of factors that came together to fuel its rise, “quiet luxury” almost feels inevitable.
At the dawn of the 2020s, people had a little more money to spend. Fast Company cited pandemic lockdowns among the driving factors behind the trend: People stayed home and saved more, using that extra income (and those stimulus checks) to invest in more quality goods. Sustainability also comes into play. As fast fashion’s impact on climate change and human rights violations has come into sharper focus, more people are ready and willing to spend $500 on a pair of loafers they’ll wear for years instead of a haul of clothes they’ll throw out in six months.
Pop culture has played a role, too. As HBO’s Succession took off toward the end of the 2010s, so did its characters’ understated, logo-free wardrobes. Crown prince Kendall Roy’s $500 Loro Piana baseball cap made headlines, and listicles and Reddit threads dedicated to dressing like Shiv Roy began to pop up all over the internet.
Then there’s the accelerated trend cycle. If the trend cycle was previously working on a 20-year revolution, today, that feels more like 20 days. When a new “[insert fruit/beverage/etc.] girl” aesthetic seems to pop up every time you refresh the app, timeless looks take on a new level of security. You don’t have to worry about whether or not an outfit will be passé before your package even ships, or if you’ll waste your money on something you’ll only wear twice before realizing you kind of hate it. A button-up shirt with pleated trousers and leather loafers looks as smart in the 2020s as it did in the 1960s (and as it likely will in the 2060s).
And wasting money is a very real concern: In one survey, more than three-quarters of respondents reported living paycheck to paycheck. As anyone who has recently grocery shopped knows, rates of inflation are soaring around the world. Gen Zers are more likely than older folks to work multiple jobs and to articulate concerns about the stability of their employment; 75 percent are seeking additional sources of income. Under these conditions, the prospect of keeping up with micotrends might feel overwhelming, mentally and materially.
Through brands like Aritzia, Polène, and Re Ona—all of which offer capsule wardrobe pieces under $500—“quiet luxury” puts timeless, trend-proof style within reach, providing investment-ish pieces that will last longer than their fast fashion counterparts. You might not be able to afford a coat from The Row in the near future (neither can we), but you can easily buy Everlane trousers and still make rent.
But it should be noted that “quiet luxury” elevates a certain kind of wealth. Maximalist jewelry and saturated colors might go back to really, really old money, but in the American consciousness, “new money” is associated with “loud wealth”—gilt trimmings, blinged-out chains, and a love of logos. While that doesn’t perfectly align with race, for the most part, “loud wealth” is associated with rappers, ballers, and other high-earning workers who are predominantly Black and Latinx.
During the Gilded Age, those who were “new money” gravitated toward bold colors and avante-garde silhouettes. By contrast, the “old money” set would head to Paris to stock up on the latest fashions, then leave them in the closet until the less affluent caught on to the looks. Today, it could be argued we’re living in another Gilded Age, with global income inequality close to the levels it reached during that era. The IYKYK nature of “quiet luxury” makes it easier for the mega-rich to move in silence. Much like how stepping out of a black SUV will draw less attention than stepping out of a stretch limo, a nondescript hoodie and jeans make it much easier to dodge paparazzi and protestors alike. Only others in your milieu will have the eye to detect that said hoodie costs more than the average car payment.
Ultimately, “quiet luxury” is a meeting in the middle: A space where the wealthy can downplay what they “have,” and the rest of us can forget what we “have not.” Social media and pop culture have made it easier to find out how the ultra-wealthy actually dress, and more brands that score higher on metrics such as affordability, sustainability, and quality than their fast fashion counterparts have made getting that look more attainable. But perhaps most importantly, “quiet luxury” feels timeless. So go ahead and add that leather top-handle bag to your cart—you’ll probably get a lot of use out of it.