Why Dressing Poor Is the New Rich: Fashion, Class & Irony
The irony of effortlessness in an age of inflation
We traced the quiet theft of culture, how Kolhapuris turned into "leather sandals" on European runways, how bindis, dupattas, and even haldi doodh were rebranded without a nod to their roots. But this time, something shifted. With Pharrell’s Louis Vuitton SS26 show and Prada’s recent Spring/Summer collection, India wasn’t just a moodboard; it was the moment. Craft was honoured, credit was given, and for once, we didn’t have to squint to find ourselves in the seams.
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Imagine, you walk into a room wearing loose cargos, a hoodie that looks like it’s seen things, and a canvas tote you didn’t even iron. Someone glances over and asks, softly, “Are you okay?”
You smile.
You’re more than okay. You’re in on the look.
This is fashion.
But it wasn’t always.
There was a time when looking expensive meant dressing like it. Ironed blouses, polished shoes, something that said “I worked hard for this.” Now, we’ve flipped it.
We dress like we don’t care, and that has never been more carefully curated.
What we’re seeing today isn’t just a trend. It’s a quiet performance in class.
And irony.
Because when luxury brands start selling distressed sneakers for ₹70,000 and calling it street, we have to ask:
Who’s this for?
The aesthetic of effortlessness
Let’s start with the basics. Golden Goose made a global business by selling sneakers that look like they’ve been through two semesters of frat parties and a bad breakup. And they haven’t even been worn yet.
Their signature look? Dirty. Not “worn once” dirty, “slept on the sidewalk” dirty.
And they sell out.
It’s the kind of thing that makes you pause.
Because when a shoe that looks ruined costs more than most people's rent, it stops being about comfort.
It becomes a symbol.
Fashion’s working-class cosplay
The irony isn’t new. High fashion has long borrowed from the working class: the labourer’s jacket, the utility pants, the steel-toed boot. But what we’re seeing now is different.
Now, it’s not just referencing work.
It’s referencing hardship.
Take Balenciaga’s 2022 Paris show models trudged through an artificial snowstorm in tattered fabrics, trash-bag-shaped purses, and shoes that looked like flood survivors. It was theatrical. Poetic, maybe.
But also surreal.
While the runway turned resilience into a silhouette,
Real people outside were facing inflation, layoffs, and a shrinking middle class.
It didn’t go unnoticed.
Recession-core, but curated.
It’s not just luxury brands. It’s TikTok, Pinterest boards, your favourite model off-duty. We’re seeing the rise of what the internet calls “recession-core”, outfits made of oversized cargos, secondhand sweatshirts, carabiner clips, and vintage sneakers that could pass for hand-me-downs.
Think Kendall Jenner in a dad cap and New Balance 990s.
Think Bella Hadid thrifting like it’s a job.
Think your favourite influencer styling “I just got laid off” but with Glossier skin and a Miu Miu mini.
And here’s the catch: a lot of it costs more than ever. Because the look of dressing poor has become rich.
Rich in taste, rich in context, rich in irony.
Conspicuous Consumption
Coined by economist Thorstein Veblen in 1899, conspicuous consumption refers to the act of buying goods or services to publicly display wealth and status, not for utility, but for recognition. It’s a kind of economic theatre, where the purchase says more than the product. Originally used to describe mansions and mink coats, today it’s taking quieter, even ironic, forms
In the context of fashion’s new “dressing poor” aesthetic, conspicuous consumption hasn’t vanished; it’s evolved. A pair of pre-scuffed Golden Goose sneakers, priced like rent, or a luxury hoodie made to resemble something pulled from a lost and found, doesn’t hide wealth; it masks it in narrative. The point isn’t that it looks worn. The point is that you paid extra to make it look that way. And in doing so, you’re not opting out of luxury. You’re rebranding it.
Class invisibility is the new flex.
What makes this shift so layered is that we’re not just dressing differently, we’re performing class differently.
Wealth isn’t screaming anymore. It’s whispering.
Old luxury was logos and polish.
New luxury is anonymity and quiet ease.
It’s a girl at a fashion week afterparty in an old pair of Sambas and a tank that looks thrifted, but isn’t.
It’s the art of knowing and being known, without saying a word.
Dressing down is no longer about frugality. It’s a form of finesse.
In a way, the new rich are dressing how the not-so-rich have always dressed. The only difference is that now, it’s a choice.
So who gets to wear the struggle?
Here’s where the contradiction sits.
When fashion aestheticises scarcity, it walks a thin line between appreciation and appropriation.
Between empathy and performance.
The most expensive thing about dressing poor? The choice to do it.
Because looking like you’re struggling, when you’re not - is a privilege.
Being able to dress like “you don’t care” often means you can afford not to.
And that’s a truth the trend doesn’t always want to admit.
Dressing down, looking closer
So no, dressing poor isn’t just a moodboard.
It’s a mirror.
Of the economy.
Of taste.
Of how class is shifting shapes in ways that feel wearable, but never simple.
If fashion reflects culture, then this is where we are right now:
Confused, ironic, and still trying to look like we have it together, even if that means tearing a few holes in our shirts first.
What we’re seeing isn’t just a new trend, it’s a new tone.
Fashion is getting better at pretending to be humble.
And we’re getting worse at recognising the performance.
It’s not about shaming the style. It’s about naming the structure.
Because when an outfit that resembles poverty becomes luxury,
we have to ask: Who’s profiting from this portrayal?
Taste is never neutral.
And the irony of today’s fashion economy?
Is that it asks you to pay more to look like you’ve got less.
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i loved this! im excited to read more from you!!
The rich are indulging in conspicuous consumption, buying distressed things to look relatable to their fans and followers but the price tag and brand are there to remind you that no, we are not the same and they will always be above you. Poor-core.