“You can tell from the glitter nails … that her style is genuine, even if it’s genuinely mediocre."
I hate Taylor Swift's outfits.
Taylor Swift is fine. Her online presence? Fine. Her beefy, all-American relationship? Fine. Her music? Extremely fine (and this is coming from someone who listened to “Midnights” while staring mournfully out the window on a rainy Amtrak trip after a breakup). Taylor Swift’s outfits are also…fine. Which, to me, is a special kind of tragedy. They don’t make her look bad; it would be hard to tip the scales that far on someone so naturally pretty and long-legged. But they also don’t improve things.
Take her look for the 2024 Grammys. She could have opted for archival Mugler robot body armor or a daringly angular Schiaparelli gown. Instead, Taylor’s Schiaparelli looked like hotel curtains saddled with opera gloves and a watch choker that cut her neck in half. I’m similarly baffled by Taylor’s tour looks, most of which boil down to ‘put some sequins on it.’ There’s nothing wrong with sequins onstage, but Taylor’s version always veers uncomfortably close to “playing dress-up with the babysitter’s recital costumes.” I have a vivid memory of performing a tap number at age 7 in a getup strikingly similar to one of her bedazzled Eras Tour blazers. It’s oddly juvenile, even for a 30-something committed to honoring all the past versions of herself, blah blah blah. The most logical explanation is that she’s dressing like a children’s entertainer, which…well.
Then there are the outfits she was trotting out to those highly visible dinners in New York, sometimes alone, sometimes linking arms with fellow tall girls Sophie Turner or Blake Lively. In October, Taylor was “spotted” heading to Emilio’s Ballato in a black spaghetti-strap dress, black belt, and strappy heeled sandals — a look that would’ve made perfect sense in…2011? This January, she opted for a green velvet dress that gave American Apparel and little else. “Despite her best efforts to be a regular downtown girl who goes to dinner with her friends, she just doesn’t look like a regular downtown girl who goes to dinner with her friends,” Emilia Petrarcha wrote of Taylor’s restaurant style. “She’s trying too hard!” And it’s true! There’s something uncanny about the whole effect, as if she’s wearing a series of costumes designed for maximum relatability.
Too many of Taylor’s outfits fall victim to the ‘one thing wrong’ rule: this EB Denim look would’ve been cuter without the necklace. I wish someone would tell her to leave the faux fur at home. And she needs to know it’s OK to choose a simple shoe now and then. My favorite looks tend to be the ones where there’s less room for error (i.e., because you straight-up can’t see her feet). For such an endlessly self-referential artist, Taylor’s visual references are all over the place.
A tiny part of me can empathize with our Modcloth queen. Taylor has worked with the same stylist, Joseph Cassell Falconer, for basically her whole career; he appeared with her on the cover of The Hollywood Reporter in 2013 where he referred to himself as an “organized hoarder.” It’s always hard to say how much sway a stylist has versus how much input they get from their client. But I think it’s fair to say that Falconer and Swift have established a rhythm by now — one that doesn’t push Taylor too far outside her comfort zone. She’s never been particularly forward-thinking when it comes to stage or red-carpet looks. You can tell from the glitter nails she wore to the Chiefs game that her style is genuine, even if it’s genuinely mediocre.
At the same time, I can’t help but want more from Taylor. This is someone whose every Instagram post is supposedly a cryptogram. Where’s the imagination? Of course, this is mostly out of envy. If I had that budget? If no one could deny me? If I was 5’11”? The things I would do! The fashion monster I would become! And then, I think, if I were her stylist? I would, for example, put her in every look from this Lauren Santo Domingo shoot, any one of which would be an improvement. I would never ruin a perfectly good Alexander McQueen gown for the sake of hiding a second outfit. I would find a way.
Obviously, there are plenty of other celebrities to turn to for style inspiration, delight, and joy. (Zendaya, duh. But also Greta Lee, whose awards-season looks made me want to openly weep, or Kristen Stewart, who is always doing something weird and cool with no pants on.) I could conserve a few brain cells by being less obsessive about Taylor Swift’s bad style. But it eats away at me like one of her dumb easter eggs. Why does one of the most powerful entertainers on the planet, capable of keeping her figurative image spotless, stumble so regularly when it comes to putting together an outfit? Sure, I could direct my attention literally anywhere else. But you and I both know by now that that’s not an option.
—Pree Traine
“The most logical explanation is that she’s dressing like a children’s entertainer, which…well.” 🪦🪦🪦
“Great gowns, beautiful gowns"