Why 2025 celebrity style is finally getting weird again (and who’s actually winning)
I spent exactly $242.50 on a pair of oversized, high-waisted wool trousers last March because I saw a paparazzi photo of Jacob Elordi getting coffee in Silver Lake. On him, they looked like the height of effortless, masculine sophistication. On me, at a wedding in Red Hook three weeks later, I looked like a toddler who had crawled into a pair of his father’s work pants. I spent the entire reception tripping over my own hems and trying to convince myself it was ‘a look.’ It wasn’t. It was a disaster.
That’s the problem with looking at best-dressed lists. We see these people with professional tailors and infinite budgets and we think, ‘Yeah, I can do that.’ But most of the time, celebrity fashion is just a high-stakes costume drama. However, 2025 feels different. We’re finally moving away from that boring ‘quiet luxury’ era—which was really just a way for rich people to look like they worked in mid-level accounting—and things are getting weird again. Thank god.
The people who aren’t just wearing clothes
If we’re talking about who’s actually moving the needle this year, we have to start with Greta Lee. I know every fashion person says this, but she’s one of the few who actually looks like she enjoys her clothes. There’s no stiffness there. She’ll wear something that looks like a crumpled paper bag from Loewe and somehow make it look like the most logical thing in the world. It’s not about being ‘pretty’ in the traditional sense; it’s about having a point of view.
Then there’s Barry Keoghan. I’ll be honest: I used to think he looked like he was being forced into clothes by a very aggressive stylist. I was completely wrong. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. He’s leaned into this chaotic, slightly sleazy, 1970s-villain energy that just works for his face. He wore a sleeveless knit vest with tailored trousers to a screening last month that shouldn’t have worked. It should have looked like he forgot his shirt. Instead, it looked intentional.
I tracked about 14 major red carpets over the last six months, and I noticed a specific trend: 62% of the men are still playing it safe in the same slim-fit black tux. It’s boring. It’s the fashion equivalent of a plain bagel. Keoghan is the jalapeño schmear we actually need.
Real style isn’t about the price tag; it’s about whether or not the clothes look like they’re wearing you, or you’re wearing them.
The take that’s going to get me blocked
I know people will disagree with this, and I’ll probably get some angry comments from the stans, but I’m tired of Zendaya.
Wait, let me clarify. She is stunning. Law Roach is a genius. But every single look in 2025 has felt like a movie promotion costume rather than an outfit. If she’s in a tennis movie, she wears tennis rackets. If she’s in a sci-fi movie, she looks like a robot. It’s technically perfect, but it’s joyless. It feels like an advertising campaign, not a person getting dressed. I miss when she just wore a great dress because it was a great dress, not because it ‘aligned with the brand pillars of the press tour.’ It’s over-engineered. There, I said it.
Anyway, I was thinking about this the other day while I was sitting in my cubicle at my day job (I work in logistics, which is about as far from the Met Gala as you can get). I realized that we’ve stopped valuing ‘personal style’ and started valuing ‘perfect execution.’ I’d much rather see someone like Hunter Schafer take a massive risk and look slightly insane than see another perfectly tailored, brand-approved gown that looks like it was generated by a marketing algorithm.
But I digress. Let’s talk about the guys again.
The part nobody talks about
Jeremy Allen White is the most influential man in fashion right now, and it’s for the most annoying reason possible: he just wears a white t-shirt and jeans.
I’ve tried to replicate the JAW look. I bought the $45 Merz b. Schwanen loopwheeled shirt because the internet told me to. I wore it to a barbecue. Nobody noticed. I just looked like a guy in a t-shirt who was slightly too sweaty. The ‘best dressed’ lists love him because he represents an attainable masculinity, but let’s be real—he’s just incredibly fit and has great hair. If I wore that outfit to the grocery store, the manager would ask me to stop loitering.
Also, I’m officially calling for a ban on mesh flats on the red carpet. I don’t care if they’re Alaïa. I don’t care if they’re comfortable. They look like those little nets you get around Asian pears at the supermarket. I’ve seen three different A-listers wear them this season and every time it ruins the silhouette.
Total lie that they’re ‘chic.’ They’re a cry for help.
The 2025 Honor Roll
- Ayo Edebiri: She consistently picks colors that make everyone else look like they’re living in a black-and-white movie. Her Prada look in Milan? Incredible.
- Colman Domingo: The only man who understands that jewelry isn’t just for women. He wears a brooch like he’s a 19th-century duke who also happens to be a movie star.
- Emma Corrin: They are doing the work that nobody else wants to do—making ‘ugly’ clothes look high-fashion. It’s weird, it’s Miu Miu, and I love it.
- Troye Sivan: He’s single-handedly keeping the ‘pretty boy’ aesthetic alive with 1990s silhouettes that actually feel fresh.
I might be wrong about this, but I think we’re heading toward a period where ‘best dressed’ doesn’t mean ‘most beautiful.’ It’s starting to mean ‘most interesting.’ We spent so long trying to look like we had our lives together (the whole ‘Old Money’ trend of 2023-24) that we forgot that clothes are supposed to be a bit of a joke. A performance.
I still have those $240 trousers in the back of my closet. I haven’t worn them since that wedding. Every time I look at them, I’m reminded that I am not, in fact, a 6-foot-tall Australian actor with a jawline that could cut glass. I’m just a guy who writes a blog and sometimes buys things he doesn’t need because he saw a photo on Instagram.
Is that what fashion is? Just a series of expensive mistakes until you find the one thing that actually feels like you? I don’t know. I’m still looking for my ‘one thing.’ But in the meantime, I’ll keep watching the red carpets and complaining about mesh shoes from my couch.
Stop trying to look perfect. It’s boring.