You know it when you see it.
You’re trawling eBay, or Vestiaire Collective, or a vintage dealer’s website when, behold, you stumble upon a sickening piece of vintage that you just know is about to be snapped up by a celebrity. Maybe you’ve even lost out on a piece, only to see it end up on a red carpet. Even worse—maybe the piece you’ve coveted becomes a celebrity’s pre-dinner pap walk look, destined to be sent to closet purgatory and never seen again.
Vintage and archival fashion has become the latest fashion status symbol among the celebrity set, telegraphing the wearer’s access to: a stylist deft enough to source these gems, the money to pay for the piece and for said stylist, and—oftentimes—the body to wear a piece of fashion history. (Think back to the Mugler Gynoid suit Zendaya wore on the Dune press tour, which could not be altered and, therefore, required someone with the exact right proportions to wear it.) But, like method dressing, it’s started to feel rote, almost corporatized—a way to draw maximum attention to the movie or album or show that the wearer is promoting. Margot Robbie? Thrilling. Margot Robbie wearing vintage John Galliano? Instant virality.
While vintage fashion flexes are a surefire way to capture our increasingly scant attention, there is a far more exciting approach to fashion that many celebrities don’t often utilize: championing up-and-coming designers.
Certain celebrities and—crucially—their stylists are more willing to take risks than their peers. Harry Lambert, who styles the likes of Harry Styles, Emma Corrin, and Alexander Skarsgård, is known for spotlighting young talent, including Steve O Smith, SS Daley, and the still-in-school Macy Grimshaw. Danielle Goldberg is also fond of emerging designers—particularly Americans. Last year, she pulled a black velvet number from NYFW darling Colleen Allen for Ayo Edediri and a sleek cobalt Luar suit for Greta Lee.
