I have such distinct memories of dressing for an ‘80s workout-themed spirit day in high school. I went to a big football school in Texas, and we used to do this sort of thing before home games. I cut a T-shirt to expose one shoulder and a sports bra strap. I wore Soffe shorts over hot pink tights, and the leg warmers I typically only wore to ballet class. I tied my hair up in an off-centered high ponytail—with a scrunchie, of course—and I’m pretty sure I was wearing Converse sneakers. My mom, always the style devotee, was quite flustered. She insisted that was not what they actually used to wear in the ‘80s.
I’m 27, so growing up in the 2010s when graphic tees and skinny jeans reigned supreme, that look was what defined ‘80s fashion for me: ultra bright colors, big scrunchies, and lycra leotards. Where did we get this idea? I’m not really sure—maybe from bad Halloween costumes and caricatured advertising. Growing older, I learned more about the power suit trope à la Working Girl. Padded-shouldered power suits. Gaudy gold jewelry. Big blown-out hair. Again, I’ve never actually seen this movie, but the notion was seemingly absorbed through cultural osmosis.
All in all, my limited knowledge of the decade’s aesthetic inclinations became synonymous with bad fashion. A decade or so later, I’ve realized what a sad existence this really was. Today, I find the more subtle nuances of 80s aesthetics have great influence on my style. And its best moments seem to be everywhere on the moodboards and references of today’s biggest designers.
If movies kick-started my investigation, American Gigolo was my watershed. Here was a minimal yet strong mode of dressing that looked nothing like the splatterpainted sweatshirts and teased hair I typically associated with the time—yet it still communicated all the power of the era’s notorious power suits. I now appreciate this film for its role as the Armani lexicon (the Italian designer’s casual suiting worn by Richard Gere in the film helped change menswear forever), but at first watch years ago, I knew none of that. I simply loved Lauren Hutton in purple silk, mid-calf skirts, and a fantastic trench coat—I still search for that red Bottega Veneta tightly woven intrecciato clutch she carried.
American Gigolo (1980)
Even amidst the cheesier John Hughes-led section of the cinematic universe, there’s beauty in the quirky combinations. I think of Duckie’s prom outfit in Pretty in Pink with the bolo tie and popped tuxedo collar. Molly Ringwald’s head-to-toe Ralph Lauren ensemble, complete with a pink shirt, long brown leather skirt, and tall equestrian boots, in The Breakfast Club. You Can’t Buy Me Love‘s Cindy Mancini? I love her black sweater vest over a white T-shirt styled with big, bold earrings and crazy hair. Skew more refined and you have The Last Days of Disco, a fantastic depiction of Chloë Sevigny in perfectly simple preppy ensembles—incredible.
The Breakfast Club (1985)
The more I learned, the more I liked—and the more I saw the ‘80s referenced everywhere. I see so many allusions in The Row’s designs—and everyone else alludes to the Row. Their most recent Spring 2026 lookbook felt reminiscent of the casual yet cool American designer Willi Smith’s WilliWear in its superlayered T-shirts, relaxed pants tucked into scrunched-up socks, and those same socks tucked into Working-Girl corporate kitten heels. Previous collections have felt evocative of Italian designer Romeo Gigli’s unique clash between Byzantine opulence and soft tailoring in the contemporary brand’s cocooned silhouettes.
The Row Spring 2026
Willi Smith’s WilliWear 1978
At Celine, Michael Rider’s debut collection as creative director was an even more literal homage to the decade, particularly in its overtly preppy nature. Prep has had many different iterations across various decades, but it was particularly distinctive amongst the yuppies of the ‘80s. Rider referenced this for Spring 2026 in his puffed up jackets and clingy trousers, his heaps of jewelry and printed silk scarves, even the little white socks peeking from above jazz shoes. Look further and you see glimpses of the ‘80s across so many fan favorite collections. Balloon pants at Alaïa. Bomber jackets at Phoebe Philo. Off-the-shoulder, bubbling silhouettes at Bally when Simone Bellotti was there. This decade of bad fashion has influenced every designer we consider good.
Celine Spring 2026
Obviously, I wasn’t around to experience the 1980s firsthand. It’s not an uncommon experience to learn about the clothes of an era in a secondhand fashion—and to subsequently get a little misguided in your discoveries. It’s hard to piece together a lifestyle after the fact. But I’m glad I didn’t let Party City Halloween costumes and high school spirit days deter me. There’s so much good to this decade’s fashion often written off as one giant fashion misstep.
Bally Fall 2025
It wasn’t an era of practicality, but one of individualism; conspicuous consumption was fueled in broad sweeps by Wall Street-powered greed under the Reagan administration. The overarching style of the era celebrated wealth in a distasteful, on-the-nose sort of way. It’s not unlike what we see today, as the popularity of the Boom Boom aesthetic encompasses our need to flagrantly display our assets, often online and often in the form of clothing that conveys status. But on a micro level, a little selfishness can be fun when it comes to fashion. And I think what we’re seeing today is designers leaning into those idiosyncrasies
If there was something unifying about my favorite aesthetics of the era, I think it’s the subtle oddity of it all that shifted from person to person. Bulbous silhouettes, mismatched brooches, wacky layering, exaggerated draping. When it’s not a caricature of itself, it’s kind of cool. Sure, Hutton wore a fantastic, timeless trench in one scene, but she also selected a yellow cable knit sweater and a khaki bucket hat in another. To me, it feels like a pre-social media desperation for expression—maybe we should all think about how to stand out without Instagram or TikTok.
I like to think that my own style has a mix of this subtly eccentric expression tinged with great, simple design. At the moment, I’m enjoying a boxier jacket with a legging. I love the look of a high neck white T-shirt beneath a blazer. I’m eyeing our Editor-in-Chief’s balloon pants more and more everyday. I’m craving something that feels a bit against the grain—but styled in a really approachable way. And none of it looks anything like my first neon dabblings—though I admittedly still have much to learn.
