November 29, 2025
My wardrobe is packed with pieces I lovingly call “fun,” the ones I daydream about from time to time. But most of them, sadly, live fairly dull, uneventful lives, waiting to finally emerge from the closet, their “fun” reduced to an aesthetic that stands out from the classics and not much more.
Among these patient sufferers hanging neatly in my wardrobe are a bright purple dress covered in white flowers, a skirt trimmed with shaggy faux fur that’s been longing for daylight since some past era, and a few loud green coats with eighties shoulders that I “never have the chance to wear.” All of these curiosities form a small colour paradise that, in my mind, could one day create wonderfully playful outfits worthy of Iris Apfel, the eternal teenager of style. But the fun usually stays tucked away in a fantasy of a person I’m clearly not. A person who, most of the time, getting dressed in the rush of an ordinary day, ends up choosing classic blue jeans and a T-shirt, as much as it pains me to admit it. And I know why. It’s a tried-and-true formula that delivers a passable look with minimal effort and doesn’t demand time, that slippery currency we all eternally lack.
The idea of a “uniform” always felt inexplicably dull to me, something I placed right next to the notion of lacking imagination, excitement, or creativity. But are all those people who wear the same clothes day after day really as boring and predictable as Kafka’s clerks, or is there something else at play? If my initial premise were true, the greatest fashion designers of our time would be the ones parading around in the most extravagant outfits, playfully mixing colours, patterns, and accessories like no one else. Their appearance would mirror the spark of their imagination and the colourful landscape of their creative minds. But that’s usually not the case. Most of the industry’s most influential names are quite predictable, their clothing stripped of drama and spectacle. One of the most recognisable fashion figures of our time, Karl Lagerfeld, spent decades wearing the same “uniform”, a black suit and a high-collared white shirt, leather gloves, a generous amount of jewellery, sunglasses, and a Mozart-style ponytail. And while he may be the first person that comes to mind when we think of a uniform, he’s far from the only one. Olivier Rousteing almost always wears an elegant black double-breasted blazer with distinctive gold buttons. “The poet of black,” Yohji Yamamoto, is forever wrapped in his (of course) black coats and a hat. Carolina Herrera never lets go of her casually unbuttoned white shirt and A-line midi skirts. Michael Kors has been loyal for years to the same black blazers, trousers, and loafers. Italian fashion legend Giorgio Armani lived in navy sweaters, and Thom Browne wears an outfit that resembles the tidy uniform of a British schoolboy. The list could go on, but let’s stop somewhere. We’ve identified the protagonists. Now the question is: why is this the case?
While every season, bowing to the audience from behind the curtain, they remind us that “the only constant is change,” they choose to look the same, regardless of trends. Their uniforms keep the same colours and cuts for decades, untouched by the fickle fashion dictates produced by the tireless machine of their own creativity. High-rise, low-rise, streetwear, tenniscore, yet another core, skinny jeans, baggy jeans, everyone wearing oversized trousers, then suddenly no one wearing trousers… None of it reaches their closets. Whatever happens on the ever-shifting roads of fashion trends, they stand calmly on the sidelines. How is that possible? Are they mocking us while we try to keep up with constant change, consciously choosing not to take part in the game? Or is it something like chefs who spend ten hours crafting elaborate foam-covered dishes at work, only to cook plain porridge for their kids at home? Surrounded by fashion every day, are they oversaturated to the point that they don’t want to think about it once they open their own wardrobes? Or maybe they don’t want their appearance to distract from the product of their work? Martin Margiela’s incognito persona in a white “lab” coat certainly supports that last idea. But somehow I doubt they all dream of being a shadow.
Former US president Barack Obama once explained in an interview for Vanity Fair why he always wears the same grey or blue suits: “I’m trying to pare down the number of decisions I make. I don’t want to think about what I’m eating or wearing, because I have too many other decisions to make. You have to focus your energy. You need to routinise your life. I can’t go through the day distracted by trivialities.” In the hyper-fast world of the fashion industry, where the number of collections, lines, and projects released each year is hard to even count, everyday dressing might be a “triviality” for the very people who create fashion. Maybe they simply don’t have time for it. Finding a uniform that fits you and holds up visually over time is the perfect way to routinise at least one small part of an already hectic life, turning clothing into something stable, something you don’t have to rethink every morning. If you stick to it long enough, it becomes part of your image, an inseparable part of your identity, something people recognise you by. Whenever I think about this, I remember a friend of mine who, after years of modelling for major fashion houses, realised that the most powerful people in the room almost always wear the simplest clothes. It’s a subtle marker of status, hinting that the person no longer needs to stand out through appearance and can afford the comfort of dressing without much effort or spectacle. It’s also pretty clear proof that extravagant outfits are the last thing on their mind. Just because you work in fashion doesn’t mean you need to look like a walking trend report every single day.
Does the stripped-down appearance of major creative directors prove they’re unoriginal or dull? No. That would be a wild conclusion. Their creativity lives somewhere else, in the work they create. And that’s more than enough.
