Fashionably Aware: The Misogyny We Pretend Not To See
Calling fashion frivolous has never been just an intellectual opinion. It has always been a stereotype rooted in misogyny. It comes from the same embedded belief system that makes young girls second-guess their favourite colour because they feel ashamed of liking pink. Long before they understand politics or industry or culture, they are taught to distrust their own preferences, to recoil from anything labelled feminine, to believe that what they love is somehow less serious. Fashion is not frivolous, it is a language you are refusing to learn.
Recently, I attended a panel hosted by The Vogue College of Fashion, where Dr Johannes Reponen delivered an insightful and thought-provoking talk about the fashion industry and its place in the world.
In the middle of his speech, he paused, looked across the room, and asked a question that appeared simple at first: “What is fashion?” Before I could stop myself, I felt an immediate urge to respond. It was instinctive rather than prepared, almost like the answer had already been forming inside me for years. I began what can only be described as a passionate monologue. I said that fashion is not simply frivolous, which remains one of the most persistent misconceptions.
Fashion is a global industry of an enormous scale. More importantly, it is a cultural cosmos where sociopolitical and aesthetic forces collide, shift and reach millions of people in ways that written politics rarely manage to do.
The next time you pick up a copy of Vogue, before rolling your eyes at the outfit the model is wearing, pause for a moment and look through the pages with intention. Vogue, which is so often dismissed as a mere fashion publication, manages to do what many traditional outlets cannot. It reaches millions and places culture within their hands. When a past issue used an impressionist painting as a cover element, it made art history accessible to the general public, creating an immense cultural impact. It informed, educated and elevated in a way far beyond surface level aesthetics.
Anyone who looks closely at clothing knows this. When you examine a collection, like the most recent Miu Miu season, you can see the imprint of our current political climate woven directly into silhouettes, colours and presentations. Designers respond to instability, to global tension, to societal anxiety. Fashion registers these shifts in real time. Clothes become cultural instruments that react long before institutions catch up.
Fashion also remains deeply relevant to being politically aware. The next time someone sees a pair of ballet flats and assumes that the wearer must also be uncultured or uninformed, they should think again and recognise the flaw in their thinking.
Style and intellect are not mutually exclusive. They never have been. This narrative only survives because oversimplification is comfortable and because the industry has historically been driven by women, which means the world has been far too quick to diminish it.
Moreover, fashion persists in every moment of crisis. It does not vanish when the world erupts, but becomes a quiet force that brings people together. After the 9/11 terror attacks, New York Fashion Week helped rebuild a shaken community. Designers, editors, models, writers and citizens came together and reminded each other that creativity still had a place in a devastated city. Fashion became a site of collective resilience. The idea that clothing is somehow a trivial concern collapses completely when you witness the way a community gathers around it in its darkest hours.
This misconception reveals how easy it is to fall into overgeneralisation, especially when the industry is dominated by women. It is also easy to believe that you are somehow exempt from fashion. Yet just like the iconic cerulean scene from The Devil Wears Prada demonstrates, you are influenced by it every single day whether you acknowledge it or not.
The impulse to mock fashion often comes from a place shaped by misogyny. It diminishes an industry that provides countless jobs and opportunities, particularly for women. It also ignores the fact that fashion is not simply about aesthetics. It is intimately connected to self-awareness, identity and how individuals move through the world. Calling fashion frivolous is not only inaccurate but also profoundly entitled.
Before closing, I want to repeat a quote from Anna Wintour, which I hope everyone reflects on: “A misconception is indeed sometimes there about women that because they love fashion, they might be frivolous, not someone to be taken seriously.”
If there is one thing I hope this article makes clear, it is that dismissing fashion as frivolous is not a sign of intellectual sophistication. It is a sign of carelessness. To trivialise an industry built by women, sustained by women and shaped by global cultures is to reveal a bias that has gone unquestioned for far too long.
Falling into this misconception is not only shallow, but also dangerous. Every time we dismiss a female dominated field as superficial, we repeat the oldest trick in the patriarchal playbook. We shrink the space women occupy, we delegitimise their expertise, and we disguise misogyny as discernment. This mindset does not protect modern feminism, it undermines it. It reinforces the idea that women’s interests are inherently unserious and that their industries deserve less respect, less funding and less intellectual weight.
Fashion documents our history, influences our politics and shapes our identities, whether we admit it or not. Those who mock it expose only their own blind spots. So, look closely at what you choose to undermine. Very often, fashion tells the truth long before the world is ready to hear it.
