by Oana-Maria Moldovan
Throughout history, fashion and politics have shared a common thread in their narratives.
The global pandemics, wars, elections (and other political events), and different movements we have faced are always closely intertwined with art, fashion, evolution, modernisation, and often even the maturation of creativity.
“Originating from the Latin facito, meaning literally ‘to create,’ the term ‘fashion’ has come to embody a set of values that encompass diverse notions such as conformity and social bonds, rebellion and eccentricity, social aspirations and status, charm, and seduction. The desire to dress transcends historical, cultural, and geographical boundaries, and while the form and content differ, the motivation remains the same: to adorn the human body as an expression of identity.” (Fashion – The Complete History, 2013, Quintessence Editions Ltd.)
Perhaps we didn’t notice, or maybe only the ones with two lives, the people of Camus, the artists, and creators, managed to perceive these unusual occurrences, where politics have shaped styles over the years and vice versa.
Flip through a history of fashion book, I urge you with fervour, and you’ll witness the crescendo of hemlines, an assortment of hairstyles, and trousers of all kinds defying gravity. Yet, you’ll need to read between the lines to uncover the countless ways in which dogmas have moulded these trends across centuries.
We are influenced by a dream world, one in which artists manage to dissect, in the most incredible ways, a reality some refuse to see. But just as art influences society, the history of society continuously redefines what we understand as style.
Who knows where this entire world – the one I call home – would have been if it hadn’t been drastically altered by socio-political (and often economic) events in global history? It’s a cycle, an aesthetic one, almost baroque in nature, where one cannot exist without the other retaining its meaning.
Art is everything and nothing; art began, much like religion, to give people hope during times when society needed a reprieve from real life. Nevertheless, none is to say that hope, in itself, can’t sometimes be a dangerous weapon.
“The human soul needs actual beauty more than bread.” – D.H. Lawrence, Apocalypse (1930)
Fashion began as an avalanche of materials and emotions driven by wars, was modernised by epidemics, and has evolved into a 21st-century industry where we must be conscious of its environmental implications.
Once you uncover the full story, you’ll never look at fashion the same way again. Everything in the world is a trend, a movement that dictates the socio-cultural sphere. Fashion thus becomes a political statement.
We’ve watched as online spaces, especially social media, have leaned into ideals that look like a throwback to a 1950s suburbia fantasy, with a bit of an influencer twist.
History has a habit of going through cycles, where societies shift back and forth between progress and nostalgia, often dragging the most marginalised down in the process.
These moves back in time are almost always coded in class, race, and gender dynamics. Let’s stroll through a few key periods where this kind of nostalgic conservatism swept in and made things look shiny on the surface while reinforcing power and privilege underneath.
The Enlightenment Era: The Age of Reason and Revolution
This 17th- and 18th-century movement transformed how humans thought about existence, knowledge, and progress.
It laid the foundations for modern science, politics, and philosophy – and gave us a laundry list of thinkers whose names we now drop to sound intelligent at dinner parties.
But let’s not sugarcoat it. The Enlightenment wasn’t all about people in powdered wigs writing elegant treatises by candlelight.
Thinkers like John Locke, Voltaire, Immanuel Kant, and Jean-Jacques Rousseau challenged the status quo (well, in Rouseau’s case, sort of), questioning the divine right of kings, the power of the Church, and the subjugation of the masses.
Europe in the late 1600s and 1700s was a hotbed of transformation. The ‘Scientific Revolution’ had already undermined the belief that the Earth was the center of the universe.
The printing press spread ideas like wildfire. Economies were changing, with burgeoning capitalism beginning to take root. And yet, society was still shackled by oppressive monarchies, rigid class hierarchies, and deep-seated inequalities.
Enter the Enlightenment, with its cries of ‘liberty, equality, fraternity’ (well, that last one came later, during the French Revolution, but you get the point). It was all about questioning authority and advocating for human rights, reason, and knowledge.
Philosophers of the Enlightenment argued for everything from separation of powers (thank you, Montesquieu) to freedom of speech and religion (Voltaire, with his wit sharper than any guillotine).
The era inspired revolutions across the world: The American Revolution (1776) took its cues from Locke’s ideas of life, liberty, and property, while The French Revolution (1789) took Rousseau’s theories (I told you there’s a catch there) of the general will and democracy – though it admittedly got a bit messy with all the beheadings and giving children STDIs intentionally.
While the elite debated freedom, the working classes and enslaved people had to wait their turn. Women, too, found themselves mostly left out of the picture, though figures like Mary Wollstonecraft (A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, 1792) began to advocate for gender equality. Spoiler: no one really listened to her at the time.
But let’s address the elephant in the room: the Enlightenment had a dark side.
For all its lofty talk of liberty and reason, much of it was rooted in Eurocentric and colonialist perspectives.
Enlightenment thinkers often championed the subjugation of other cultures, labeling them as “barbaric” or “uncivilised”, and in some cases even “domed”. Empires expanded under the guise of spreading enlightenment and progress, leaving behind legacies of oppression and exploitation.
Take, for instance, Denis Diderot’s Encyclopédie, a monumental work meant to compile human knowledge. While it celebrated progress, it also perpetuated stereotypes about “the other.” Similarly, the idea of “universal rights” conveniently excluded non-Europeans, women, and anyone outside the elite intellectual circles.
Oh, you thought we’d skip fashion? Think again. The Enlightenment may not be remembered for its style, but even clothes told a story.
The rococo extravagance of the upper classes – think powdered wigs, corsets, and silk stockings – was countered by the rise of more practical, understated attire reflecting Enlightenment ideals of simplicity and reason.
Men’s fashion saw the emergence of the three-piece suit, embodying modernity and discipline. Meanwhile, women were still expected to play the part of decorative objects, though revolutionaries like Rousseau romanticized peasant simplicity, inspiring trends like pastoral dresses for the Marie Antoinettes (have I yet told you they were close correspondents?) of the world.
Ring a bell? The Enlightenment’s promises of freedom and reason laid the groundwork for many of today’s democratic ideals – but also for modern inequalities.
And as we grapple with questions of technology, globalism, and ethics, one has to wonder: Are we living through another age of reason, or its chaotic sequel?
The Victorian Era: The Gilded Age of Morals and Manners
Call it what you wish. The English called it the Victorian Era, the Americans felt more pompous and called it the Gilded Age. My people called it ‘the beginning of consumerism’ – you get the gist.
In Britain, the Victorian Era (1837–1901) was a time when society saw immense technological and industrial progress, yet culture shifted towards a very rigid and conservative ideal. There was a heavy emphasis on propriety, family values, and a woman’s role within the home – ironically, a woman was head of the country and Church.
While the upper and middle classes enjoyed the spoils of industrialisation, women were increasingly expected to embrace separate spheres – men in the public, competitive world and women in the private, moral realm of home and family.
Truthfully, it’s a tad more complicated than just that. Women did indeed ‘keep home’, in the practical sense. But not all women.
Even in Western countries like North America or France, women started having more ‘serious’ jobs, like writers, journalists, decorators, florists, etcetera – yes, most of them were still in creative fields.
And let’s not forget about women of colour, farmers, fishermen and hunter’s wives and daughters (who were on duty to clean the meat), market sellers, nurses, teachers, the list goes on.
In reality, it was a privilege to be a ‘stay-at-home wife’
It was a time of rigid class structures and a romanticised Englishness (and colonisation of the East) that ignored the darker realities of empire and occupation and obstruction of freedom.
Indigenous customs, artefacts, and knowledge were appropriated, exoticised, and repackaged as curiosities or luxurious discoveries, all while reinforcing a hierarchy that kept British society at the top.
The Victorian fixation on morality and tradition was dressed up in all the latest luxuries but served to entrench class divides and keep women’s agency limited. Sound familiar?
The Interwar Period: Flirtation with Fascism and “Traditional” Values
The years between the World Wars, particularly the 1930s, were full of economic hardship and social anxiety. After the initial excitement of the 1920s, with its progressive energy and women’s newfound freedoms (debatable), there was a reactionary turn.
People sought comfort in tradition, with nationalist and fascist ideologies gaining traction across Europe, emphasising “traditional” family structures, racial purity, and rigid gender roles.
Women who had stepped into public life and taken their husbands’ and fathers’ jobs during the war were now encouraged to return to the domestic sphere, under the guise of rebuilding society’s moral fabric.
This was especially reinforced by pop culture, movies about the All-American family cubicle, and books about ‘true love’ (where a 30 years old man came back from war with PTSD, and even tho he beat someone in a bar the feminine and naive virginal 19 years old love interest still fell in love with him). Music was also a big selling point here – in the white and upper-class spheres especially.
Meanwhile, fascist and ultra-conservative movements positioned themselves as “new” and even “edgy” in their defiance of liberalism, all while harkening back to a mythical, purer past.
These values were cloaked in a sleek, militaristic aesthetic that appealed to those who wanted “order” and a more “disciplined” society.
The irony of this whole period? Fashion was at its peak. Glorious, really – if you were rich, white, and living in France, England, or even Germany and with a flair for couture.
Coco Chanel and Elsa Schiaparelli aren’t just names we vaguely associate with the history of fashion; their work defined modern wardrobes. We owe them, quite literally, the liberation of our bodies.
Chanel discarded the corset and offered us… the little black dress? Well, she also introduced the man’s hat in the women’s wardrobe… while having neo-nazi ideologies. Fine, she wasn’t that great. But let’s let her be, all right.
Schiaparelli is where we want to be. What a woman – I love her dearly! To strut around Paris in men’s clothes just for the sake of the white woman’s liberation.
All jokes aside, the Italian daughter of an aristocrat mother and a schooler father – please tell me when you see the pattern –, she didn’t just bring the suit into women’s closets or champion the arts as a patron; she also gave voice to the queer community of her time, collaborating with gay artists and jewellers who shaped her brand’s avant-garde identity.
And although all that is true, and I could never not be enamoured by her, a question still stants on the tip of my tongue: Would Schiaparelli still have been able to do all that, if she weren’t considered an aristocrat herself?
What we just discussed, parallels to today’s resurgence of trad wife culture and anti-liberal opposition are striking: the promise of rebellion, but really a pullback to restrictive roles and closed borders.
The 1980s: The Rise of Neoliberalism and the “Yuppie”
You were expecting the 1950s, right? Truthfully most could see that clear as day. However, what is often hard for us to understand through our rose-coloured glasses were the less ‘clear’ (you see what I did there?) periods that were influenced
The 1980s brought a shift back towards conservative values under leaders like Thatcher in the UK and Reagan in the US.
That, right then, in that exact moment in time, was the era of the “yuppie” – the young, upwardly mobile professional who prioritised wealth, status, and a certain polished, elite image.
Neoliberalism took centre stage, emphasising individualism, wealth accumulation, and a retreat from social responsibility.
Before going forward, I have to first explain what neoliberalism means. Today, we tend to throw that word away quite easily before thinking of it deeper. The term neoliberalism originated in the 1930s at the Colloque Walter Lippmann (1938) in Paris, where intellectuals like Friedrich Hayek and Ludwig von Mises discussed ways to refine classical liberal ideas in response to the perceived failures of laissez-faire capitalism, socialism, and interventionist policies of the time.
Now that you are up to speed let’s get back on track.
Culture became more about material symbols of “success” – luxury brands, high-flying careers, exclusive clubs – while conservatism positioned itself as the new rebellion against the “chaos” of the 1960s and 70s counterculture.
The yuppie aesthetic was all about curated affluence, which is echoed today in the obsession with old-money chic and wellness as a marker of both financial and personal “discipline.”
The emphasis on self-reliance and independence masked an ugly reality: a growing gap between the rich and the poor, racial and gender discrimination, and a retreat from collective welfare.
You might find it rather weird – or not – that Yuppie is a style – more or less – still used today, one that had a resurgence in the last few years. That’s not actually true, the Yuppie died, but its little sister, ‘preppy’ is doing backward flips as we speak.
Now that the bunny is out of the hat, on to today’s problems at hand: how and why we should have all predicted the rise of political conservatism by simply looking at the trends that have surged since 2020 until today.
Wellness and the “Clean Girl” Aesthetic: A New Form of Virtue Signalling
The wellness movement and the clean girl aesthetic promise a more wholesome lifestyle, yet often idealise practices that require time, money, and let’s be honest, a degree of whiteness, among other things.
This form of marketing is all about extravagant brands, pricey natural (which are not so natural) supplements, and minimalist styles borrowed from Indigenous and Eastern traditions – think yoga, meditation, and plant-based diets. However, these are stripped of their cultural context and resold to a predominantly white audience as aspirational, exclusive identity markers.
And the message here? A pseudo-rejection of consumerism and ‘bad health’ (which is often associated with low-income households) that reinforces capitalist, conservative ideals celebrating thinness, wealth-as-wellness, and yes, eurocentrism. It’s essentially saying, “If you’re not investing in these (often appropriated) products, you’re lacking in discipline or self-care.”
The Trad Wife Movement: Gender Roles Gone Retro
Trad wives are all over Pinterest and Instagram, glamorising submissive, domestic femininity as a desirable lifestyle. These women are romanticising housewifery, marital submission, and “family values” (which are debatable in their case) as if these roles are the ticket to liberation, all while sidestepping the fact that these roles were built to keep women’s agency in check.
Listen, I’m not against home-makers. Contrary to popular belief, home-making, while it has a horrid history, is also one of the most important jobs in the world. But, realistically, it’s still a white-washed, Western, hetero-normative wet dream that can only work in very exceptional cases.
Here’s the twist, though: modern trad wives are using this conservatism as a sort of edgy stance, positioning themselves as rebels against woke (the word means something else entirely and has racial issues at its core) culture or liberal feminism (which is not the best either, but that discussion is for another time).
They fancy themselves as counter-cultural, but let’s call a spade a spade – what’s unique about reviving roles that patriarchy has always wanted women to fill?
Old Money Aesthetic: A Nostalgia for Privilege
Old money style celebrates a particular brand of wealth – quiet, white, and generational (do you see the pattern?). We are talking about the kind of money that comes from Western Europe, from oil, soil, colonisation, and ‘hard work.’
The look harks back to private schools, English country estates, and an aesthetic of understated (but unmistakably expensive) elegance. And let’s not pretend it’s just about fashion; this lifestyle peacefully enforces class divisions while acting as though it doesn’t. It’s not a celebration of graft or grit; it’s a comfortable nod to inherited privilege.
Often, this style is aspirational for those without that background, who view it as the pinnacle of sophistication (and I can’t help but see the parallels with the Enlightenment Period).
But of course, it discourages cultural diversity, setting standards of pseudo-success that, by their very nature, exclude marginalised communities who are first-generation in everything – from university education to financial stability and so much more.
At the end of the day, this discourse it’s still about rich versus poor.
Repackaging Indigenous and Non-Western Practices as Luxury
The appropriation of Indigenous, Black, and Eastern traditions (here, I also mean Eastern Europe) in wellness and aesthetics is all over this movement. Ancient practices related to healing, meditation, natural living, and even fashion are constantly stripped of their heritage and rebranded as luxury experiences.
Just look at the rise in high-end skincare products advertising “Ayurvedic” ingredients, “ancient rituals,” or the appropriation of traditional jewellery, all sanitised and repackaged for Western consumption.
And it’s not only about beauty products. We can talk about it all day, from haute couture (Dior and Gucci take the big prize here), to fast fashion – do I even have to explain? –household products, medication.
We can even see it in the way we talk about books and reading today – although that’s for another discussion.
These trends are part of the conservative move back to simpler times (simpler for white, Western, well-educated, middle-upper class, straight, able men – it’s a doozy to even write it), but only so long as these practices remain exclusive, Occidental, and marketable.
Traditional cultural and folkloric teachings about harmony with nature or respect for the land are turned into spa treatments rather than embraced as sustainable, meaningful lifestyles – I’m talking about you, Moroccan bath owners, and Japanese spa-goers.
The Soft (and Not-So-Soft) Conservative Turn
What we’re seeing isn’t just aesthetic; it’s a cultural regression dressed up as “new” trends. Behind the polished façade, these movements are reinforcing conservative, capitalist, and exclusivist ideals under the guise of liberation or counter-culture.
They yearn for a world where roles were clear-cut, wealth stayed in certain circles, and traditions were closed off to those who didn’t fit a certain image.
As repetitive as I may sound, it’s still all about ‘who carries the money’.
In a world where a privileged few profit off exclusivity, these trends make ‘staying in one’s place’ look appealing.
Now that we’ve read between the lines, perhaps we can begin to view this often-dismissed industry through a new lens.
Major historical events have shaped the industry to such a profound extent.
Politics cannot be separated from art, just as society cannot be separated from culture. We learn as we go, revisiting earlier styles and materials, reinterpreting and repurposing them.
How much, I wonder, lies hidden, waiting to be unearthed, within the true history of fashion? Perhaps we won’t uncover the full truth anytime soon, but we can try. We can begin to see the world of fashion as one where everything is cyclical, everything means something, and every piece has a story trembling with anticipation to be told.
Maybe fashion isn’t cyclical due to a lack of innovation, but because of its socio-political and economic implications. So often, we return to what we know – to origins, folklore, and culture.
And what of fashion? Some write history in colourful ink and white chalk, on canvas and cotton. Others draw lines over lines with the pink ballpoint pens atop stacks of fashion magazines piled high on coffee tables. I, meanwhile, type away at jumbled words until my fingertips ache, trying to articulate my art.
Dreams and hope may fade, but culture never dies.