Comfort in the Past: Why We’re Dressing Like Our Parents Again

Fashion is constantly looking forward. Lately, it’s more like peering backward.

By Catherine Ursitti

Photo by Serenidy Ryan

Oversized sweaters hang beside worn-in leather jackets. Corduroy trousers, loafers, rugby shirts, vintage denim, and argyle have all returned to the same closets that were once dominated by microtrends. Even the language surrounding fashion has become strangely familial: “grandpa core,” “coastal grandmother,” “old money,” and “dad style.” They all draw their identities from generations past.

At first glance, it seems like another predictable turn of the ongoing trend cycle. Fashion has always recycled itself. But the current fixation on clothing appearing to be inherited rather than purchased feels slightly different. At a moment when trends shift frequently, nostalgia offers the familiarity that fashion today increasingly lacks. And that’s the entire appeal.

A trend can circulate through TikTok, reach fast-fashion retailers, and feel out of date within weeks. Social media rapidly shortens its lifespan. Clothing begins to feel less like an expression of identity and more like an obligation. Only nostalgia has the potential to interfere with this cycle.

Gen Z is nostalgic for periods we never experienced. We romanticize '90s minimalism, '80s leather jackets, '70s knits, and preppy wardrobes that we can pull from old family photographs. We aren't necessarily trying to become our parents or grandparents. Instead, we are borrowing the visual language from their decades.

A pristine leather jacket can be bought anywhere; a worn one provokes mystery. When everyone has exposure to the same influx of content, individuality is tricky to manufacture. Vintage and inherited clothing are the most attractive alternative, as their imperfections make replication nearly impossible. The scratches, fading, and softened fabric become part of the appeal. Through evidence of use, clothes gain character, and shopping transforms into a version of self-discovery.

Our generation is confronted with a landscape defined by instability: rapidly changing technology, economic uncertainty, and an internet relentlessly promoting reinvention. Our identities feel fluid. There constantly appears to be another aspect of ourselves waiting to be altered and optimized.

We uncover comfort when we wear our parents’ silhouettes, thrift a decades-old jacket, or deliberately buy second-hand pieces. Ironically, looking backwards is how we can distinguish ourselves in the present. The clothes may belong to the past, but the identities we create through them do not. And sometimes, borrowing from the past is exactly how we figure out who we are.