The Politics of Modesty

I said it earlier this year, and I’m afraid I’ll have to say it again.

The economic and political instability in the world has fully brought back conservatism. But what does that really mean — and where do we see it reflected? I swear I’m not pushing it too far. For once, I wish I was.

I had been hesitant to write this piece, not because I object to modesty or tradition, but because I didn’t want to reduce something so complex to a political label. I have no issue with people dressing modestly — just as I have none with those who embrace a bolder or more revealing style. What concerns me is how easily we, as a society, begin to accept and normalize certain aesthetics without questioning what they represent. From aesthetics that romanticize domesticity to runway looks that literally restrain the female body, fashion’s surface-level shifts are beginning to mirror deeper cultural regressions.

I’m no political expert by any means. Nonetheless, especially these days, everything is political — and fashion trends and culture will never be the exception.

It is safe to say this “trend” was foreshadowed, with the ongoing rise over the past few years of aesthetics such as coquette, tradwife, and clean girl, among many others — popularized by some of the biggest influencers of our time (cue Nara Smith or, for Spanish speakers, RoRo). The cult-like devotion to brands such as The Row follows the same logic: a 1990s nostalgia wrapped in Carolyn Bessette references, selling restraint and understatement as the new markers of luxury — and conveniently, of moral superiority.

Images courtesy of Instagram, @naraaziza and @whoisroro and TikTok (search results for “The Row Sample Sale”)

As shown in statistics released by fashion tech company Heuritech in 2024, online searches for items such as equestrian boots increased by 39%, and knee-length skirts by 33%. Meanwhile, prints like polka dots (up 49%) and gingham (up 33%) were also seen everywhere — patterns that date back to the 1950s, when the conservative female ideal was the epitome of elegance.

Images courtesy of Instagram, @naraaziza and @bykristinapereira

More recently, we can see this shift on the runways: the romanticization of workwear through “office siren” aesthetics, and more blatantly in Miu Miu’s SS26 runway — one of the most influential luxury brands of our time, defining womenswear particularly for younger generations — where literal workwear glamorized aprons. Because when the economy is unstable, not only do we return to traditional values and gender roles, but we also must learn to make work luxurious. If everyone is working harder just to get by, that becomes the aesthetic and trend of our times: workwear.

Images courtesy of Instagram, @miumiu

In the Americas, we’ve seen a return to patriotism, with all-American fashion staples ranging from naval-inspired looks and varsity stripes to tailored sportswear. Red, white — and blue — were particularly prevalent across the SS26 season, subtly reinforcing fashion’s flirtation with conservative ideals and the resurgence of nationalism.

Images courtesy of Instagram, @ralphlauren and @brandonmaxwell

With around 80% of creative directors at major fashion houses being men, there’s a lot to unpack. Many have been criticized for dressing women in constrictive ways or even hiding them — through necklines that turned into headlines, or headwear that masked their faces. Fashion critic Vanessa Friedman said it best in her New York Times Style piece, where she noted how Paris Fashion Week runways introduced styles that hid, confined, or deadpan erased the women beneath them. Unfortunately, very few designers seem to be escaping the matrix — and those who do appear to be not-so-acclaimed.

Images courtesy of Instagram, @imgmodels (Alaïa’s S/S26) and @courreges

Even fast-fashion brands, such as PrettyLittleThing, which once thrived by jumping on every micro-trend and producing going-out staple clothes, have undergone a severe sober rebranding — adapting not only their imagery but also their garments to a much more minimalist and modest aesthetic.

Left: Screenshot of PrettyLittleThing’s former branding as found via Google search (source: PrettyLittleThing.com). Right: Screenshot of PrettyLittleThing’s current Instagram feed (@prettylittlething).

This visual shift isn’t confined to fashion. Pop culture, too, seems to be trading provocation for penitence. Take Rosalía, whose 2022 album Motomami became an anthem of chaotic female liberation — slick, loud, unapologetically sensual. Fast-forward to her latest release, LUX: the cover shows her draped in white, arms restrained, head covered, invoking spiritual purity. In recent interviews, she’s spoken of divine connection and reflection. 

After listening to the album, I was particularly struck by the track “Novia Robot”, which carries a devotional tone — “Guapa para Dios, me pongo guapa para Dios” — translating to “Good-looking for God, I make myself look good for God.” There’s nothing inherently wrong with that; I grew up in a Catholic household and have a strong bond with God myself. I just find the shift fascinating, especially when viewed against the Motomami era. Whether intentional or not, Rosalía’s transformation mirrors fashion’s own turn toward modesty and introspection — a collective craving for control disguised as transcendence.

Images courtesy of Instagram, @motomamis.gr

Quite the contrary — yet deeply intertwined — we also see the return of the male gaze. On one side, we’re adopting conservative and modest wear more and more, turning it into the norm; on the other, we’re seeing the infamous “sex sells” mantra resurface across runways, campaigns, and pop-culture imagery, further cementing its place in the mainstream. Sydney Sweeney being the face of this movement — teaming up with Dr. Squatch for her bathwater soap and later starring in her not-so-well-received “Great Jeans (Genes)” campaign for American Eagle.

Images courtesy of Instagram, @drsquatch and @americaneagle

Earlier this year, another unfortunate reflection of this was Carl’s Jr. bringing back their “burger girl,” starring Alix Earle. The burger chain had steered away from this kind of advertising for years due to its misogynistic overtones — I remember studying their campaigns long ago in both media and gender studies courses as a textbook example of poor marketing. Yet the political climate of today opened the door for its return — of course, in a more politically correct form, but still risqué enough for 2025 standards. A “creative” choice that only seems to pave the way for what’s inevitably to come.

Left: Kim Kardashian for Carl’s Jr., 2009 campaign (publicly available promotional image). Right: Alix Earle for Carl’s Jr., 2025 campaign (source: @carlsjr on Instagram).

I find it fascinating how we, as a society, shift gears. The same people who once seemed so vocal on issues such as female empowerment and liberation have gone quiet as we collectively adopt a new narrative. Yet they can’t really be blamed — it’s easy to mistake these changes for mere aesthetic choices. But that can only be the case if we ignore the context, which, at least for me, is impossible to do.

As we face a looming instability ahead of us, it’s important to remember our values. Hence the importance of personal style — for it is the only thing that will keep us from falling into the trap of buying into trends that stand for beliefs opposing our own. Discernment will also be key: to understand whether what we normalize and let become a trend is truly a creative choice or a political statement. Because nowadays, everything is political.