Last Tuesday morning at 7: 43—I was already late to meet a client—I found myself staring into my closet at a pile of clean laundry I hadn’t touched in three days. Frantically throwing on the first outfit I could find, I realized as I reached for my belt that every pair of jeans I owned was at the dry cleaner. No good work pants?
Really?! I thought, surveying my options. Clearly the universe was challenging me: I wore those gross low-rise flared leggings that date back to my business school days and have inexplicably survived every closet purge since.
I shoved them into kitten heels (the only pair of shoes that were clean) and this pint-sized blazer that doesn’t even reach my waistline, raced out the door, and hoped for the best. Of course Sarah from marketing saw me by the elevator and did that thing where she stares until you say something. “Are you wearing those ironically?” she asked.
Fair question.
I had no clue. Except now I do. Thanks to Sarah, I’ve started to notice a trend popping up all over.
Literally every field and major industry has its own in-jokes; inside baseball, if you will. Fashion is no exception. Think about the looks you USED to see everywhere and cringed.
Like, peplum tops. Everyone and their mother had a peplum top at some point between 2010 and 2013. I even OWN a peplum top.
But recently, I’ve seen not one, but THREE women wear them and rock them. One on the T, one shopping at Whole Foods, one at a professional networking event. They all wore them differently than anyone would have paired a peplum in 2012, but the look was cohesive.
These women clearly weren’t sleeping with their closet doors open; they knew what they were doing. Weird belts. Cold shoulder tops.
Skinny belts. Galaxy print leggings. All things I remember mocking when they came out (okay, maybe not the galaxy leggings) and all things I’ve recently seen worn by stylish people who KNOW they look ridiculous.
The key? Styling them in a way that couldn’t have existed when they were originally popular. That peplum top?
The woman at the networking event paired it with wide-leg trousers and chunky white sneakers. Back in 2012 when every girl and her mom had a peplum top, you would never have seen sneakers with that outfit. But sneakers today create just enough friction with the peplum top to make it look intentional and interesting, rather than dated.
When Sarah asked me if I was wearing those leggings ironically, I think she meant, Are you wearing those because you don’t understand that they’re not in style anymore? But the truth is, I do get irony. It’s just the perfect amount of friction that makes wearing “incorrect” clothing work.
Case in point: Last week I broke out this outrageously colorful, chunky necklace I used to wear all the time circa 2014. Back then I’d pair it with a cardigan and skirt for a super business casual Tuesday at the office. This time I put it on over a simple black slip dress for dinner with friends.
It was such a departure from the expected necklaces-scarves-accessories combo that everyone kept asking where I got it! Like it was some cool vintage piece I scored at a thrift store when really I just bought it from Ann Taylor five years ago. There’s science behind it, guys.
I’m actually learning from this, which is saying something considering my usual expertise in fashion. You cannot just wear something that was once popular the exact same way it was before and think it will have the ironic effect you’re going for. (Ask me how I know this.) It has to conflict with its original styling just enough to prove to the fashion police that you know what you’re wearing. THAT is what makes it ironic.
I’ve worn that disgusting necklace several other ways since last week. Skinny belts are making a comeback in 2019, but not the chic, leather ones that are actually fashionable. No—the skinny BELTS I’m talking about are the ones that looked like strips of fabric someone used to wear at their natural waist over their cardigan.
I wore mine tied low on my hip with an oversized button-down, and it was such a nod to the original trend without copying it exactly that people actually asked me where I bought that belt. (My friend Maya—who works in fashion PR, by the way—explained it best when I texted her about my thoughts on reclaiming the old fads we used to hate: “I think wearing something that everyone hated but you style it in a way that didn’t exist when it was popular is like, the perfect amount of friction to where people know you’re being ironic but can’t quite put their finger on why.”) She’s right. It’s like I’m having my own private conversation with anyone who cares to notice. I understand this trend, see where it went wrong, and am purposely NOT making the same styling mistake everyone else did the first time around.
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It feels empowering, and I’m already starting to dig through my closet for more egregious sins I can wear ironically. (Crop tops, anyone?) At the risk of sounding like I totally forgot where this trend came from: Don’t. Try it. And learn from my mistake.
When I thought it would be funny to wear wedge sneakers (basically, an attempt at making athletic sneakers formal) with a dress to meet a coworker for coffee last month, I actually looked dumber than I have in years. Why? Because I wore them “correctly”—how they were originally intended to be worn—and missed the whole point of wearing them wrong on purpose. “Try it with a simple black dress,” Maya texted me when I complained about my wedge debacle. “And NO other accessories.
Wear the sneakers with some scruffy boots and jeans and you just look sloppy, not ironically disgusting.” It’s all about creating friction. Back when wedge sneakers were a “thing” everyone wore them with loose jeans, giant sweaters, and crew-neck sweat shirts. They were casual shoes for casual ensembles.
When I repped them with a minimal slip dress and no other distractions, they provided that necessary friction to send the memo that yes, I KNOW these shoes don’t go with dresses. Yes, I’m wearing them with a dress anyway. Deal with it.
Speaking of messaging: Wear clothes that YOU LIKE but everyone else found annoying when they first came out. That chevron sweater I refused to wear because everyone and their mother owned one as soon as it hit Target in 2014? I’ve been waiting for its chance to shine.
I can’t believe I waited this long to come up with this idea. I mean, think about it: Every time I start hating what’s in style I instantly purge my closet of everything that’s “wrong.” But what if, instead of tossing it, you saved it for when it goes out of style so far that it becomes stylish again? You’re essentially giving these pieces a second life by waiting until it’s ironic to wear them.
Plus, who are we kidding? Fashion is expensive and even though I CAN buy all new clothes, I hate wasting money on things that I only wore for a season. If I reuse clothes I already love but happened to find ugly for a year or two, I can justify beating them twice wearing them ironically.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about how great this is for your closet’s environment footprint too. I’m all about sustainability when it comes to fashion, and wearing clothes you already own but might have been considered wasteful when they first came out is a great place to start. Obviously we should all stop buying things we don’t need, but if you already own the chevron dress tucked away in your closet, bringing it back for round two is better than throwing it out.
Best of all? It forces you to be creative. We all know someone who boogers their entire wardrobe with pieces they find on Instagram (looking at you, Millenials).
But as fun as “following” fashion is, rediscovering old clothes in your own closet and finding new ways to style them is much more meaningful. It’s a trend that’s completely individualized based on what you USED to hate. Because let’s be honest, some trends are easier to pair ironically than others.
Peplum is great because it’s SUCH a strong silhouette that anyone who sees you wearing it knows it has to be intentional. Same with things that are overly saturated, like that chevron sweater I mentioned earlier. But what about… other trends?
Cold shoulder tops?
Those tiny shrug-looking things everyone wore? Ironically correct is going to take some getting used to.
I’m still working out the rules as we speak. But for now I’m just going to enjoy rocking pieces I actually own in ways that feel fresh to me. As for my leggings?
I’ve been wearing them almost weekly ever since that fateful Tuesday—but with oversized blazers and work boots, thank you very much. Look at me, being trendy! No seriously though.
Will people get it? Probably not. But like Maya said, as long as I’m having fun and wearing things I LIKE, I don’t care if I’m “perfectly calibrated irony” or not.
This is fun and I’m enjoying getting dressed again.
