The first fashion icon I ever trusted was Hannah Montana. She wore sequins before noon, leather jackets that served absolutely no practical purpose, and enough metallic fabric to trigger a small aircraft’s landing lights. At eight, I wanted every single outfit she owned. Not because it was stylish, let’s be honest, Disney Channel styling often looked like someone had lost a bet — but because it looked fun.
Nobody had explained colour theory to us, and thank God for that. We wore pink with orange because they were both happy colours and asking for more logic than that felt rude. We layered tutus over leggings because… well, why wouldn’t you? Getting dressed wasn’t about looking ‘expensive’ or ‘timeless’ or ‘elevated’. It was about looking like the main character in a movie nobody had written yet.
I don’t remember when that changed. I don’t remember when that changed. I do, however, remember the exact Sunday I found out.
Reorganising my wardrobe, I realised everything I owned looked strangely… edible. Oatmeal. Vanilla. Almond. Mushroom. Mocha. My closet had quietly transformed into the menu at an artisanal café where even the water costs ₹600 and the barista has opinions about your zodiac sign.
Photograph: (Instagram // @gigihadid)
Walk into any café in Mumbai, Milan or Manhattan and you’ll see it. The man is in enough taupe to camouflage himself against a luxury Airbnb wall. The influencer dressed head-to-toe in cream, looking moments away from telling you that waking up at 5 a.m. and giving up seed oils completely transformed her life. The irony, of course, is delicious. We’ve never had more choice in fashion history, yet we’ve somehow all landed on the visual equivalent of unsalted crackers.
It wasn’t always this way.
Historically, colour wasn’t decoration; it was communication. Indigo from India transformed global trade. Purple was once reserved for royalty because producing the dye was so expensive. Pink, contrary to popular belief, was once considered suitably masculine because it echoed the boldness of red. Clothes have always announced who we were before we ever spoke. Now they mostly announce that we have a Pinterest account.
The shift arguably accelerated in late 2010, when ‘quiet luxury’ became fashion’s favourite buzzword and TikTok convinced us that a capsule wardrobe was the final boss of adulthood. Suddenly, wealth wasn’t signalled through logos but through immaculate tailoring and a colour palette inspired by cappuccino foam, which is a genuinely wild thing to aspire to when you say it out loud.
Photograph: (Instagram // @rosiehw)
I don’t think beige is actually the problem. Beige is lovely. So is black. So is white. The problem is when your wardrobe starts looking less like your personality and more like your For You Page.
It’s difficult to stand out when everyone’s trying to look effortlessly understated in precisely the same way. Perhaps that’s why childhood style remains oddly nostalgic. It reminds us of a version of ourselves that dressed instinctively instead of strategically.
Ironically, fashion itself seems to be staging a quiet rebellion against the quiet. Designers have been reintroducing saturated reds, electric blues, and sunshine yellows into recent collections, almost as if they’re gently reminding us that colour never actually left, it simply waited politely while beige had its extended monologue. Consumers, too, are rediscovering maximalism, vintage prints and joyful dressing.
So here’s a modest proposal: Buy the camel coat if you genuinely love it. Build the capsule wardrobe if it makes getting dressed easier. Quiet luxury isn’t the villain, and neither is beige.
Just don’t let your wardrobe get so careful that it forgets to have a pulse.
Buy the sequinned jacket even if your calendar insists your life doesn’t require sequins. The truth is, adulthood already comes with enough spreadsheets, tax returns and passwords you can never remember. Your wardrobe doesn’t also need to resemble an artisanal bowl of overnight oats that’s given up on itself.
Also, read:
From Lace To Tailoring: Six Power Dressing Lessons From Priyanka Chopra
