The Death of Personal Style and Where has Having Taste Gone?
At 3 AM, Daniel Roseberry paces his studio, espresso in hand, contemplating fashion, art, and perhaps a croissant—because genius needs fuel. His mind drifts through the surrealist echoes of Elsa Schiaparelli’s legacy, the poetic absurdity of Alice in Wonderland, and the razor-sharp wit of The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir. Then, inspiration strikes—the creation of a suit that embodies duality: part boardroom authority, part avant-garde daydream. The tailoring nods to the structure of ‘80s power dressing, while the scalloped split feels like something Magritte might have painted if he traded canvases for couture. It’s as if this suit was plucked from the pages of a novel where the heroine outsmarts the world and looks incredible doing it. Precision meets playfulness in a split-tone masterpiece that speaks to the modern woman—bold, effortless, and impossible to ignore. With sculptural details and impeccable tailoring, this look is more than couture; it’s a statement, a conversation, a surrealist manifesto draped in silk. And, of course, it’s unmistakably Schiaparelli.
Once upon a time, style was a whisper of self-expression, a quiet rebellion stitched into the seams of a well-worn leather jacket, or the unspoken poetry of a perfectly mismatched ensemble. It was a love affair with the world—one shaped by the music you listened to, the books you devoured, the museums you wandered through on a sleepy Sunday afternoon.
And yet, here we are, scrolling in unison, watching the same five influencers tell us that quiet luxury is in, that ballet flats are back (again), and that a Bottega bag will finally make us “that girl.” The great tragedy of personal style today isn’t that trends move too quickly—it’s that the girls have nothing to pull from except the reflections of other people.
A TikTok recently sent me spiraling into this realization: the reason women and girls struggle to develop a unique sense of style is because they have no interests outside of social media. A bold statement, perhaps, but let’s examine the evidence. Where once style was informed by subcultures—grunge kids haunting record stores, indie girls reading The Bell Jar in oversized sweaters, art students stomping through SoHo in Doc Martens—today, it is dictated by algorithmic consensus. It is less about self-expression and more about self-preservation, a desperate attempt to not fall behind in an aesthetic arms race where the winner is whoever looks most like everyone else.
Hobbies? A relic of the past. There is no room for passion projects in a world where every free moment is spent curating an online persona. Reading? That’s just for Pinterest mood boards. Art? Only if it comes in the form of a perfectly arranged gallery wall. The absence of personal interests means an absence of personal style, because style—true style—requires a point of view. And to have a point of view, you must be engaged in the world beyond your phone screen.
Think of the women whose style we still reference decades later: Jane Birkin, whose effortless elegance was informed by a life of travel, music, and film. Diane Keaton, who sculpted her androgynous aesthetic through a love of theater and old Hollywood. Even the early aughts It-Girls—Kate Moss, Chloë Sevigny, the Olsen twins—built their wardrobes around a deep engagement with underground music, vintage fashion, and a refusal to be told what to wear. They were not simply reacting to trends; they were creating them, often by accident, because they were busy living.
And that’s the problem today, isn’t it? We’re too busy watching to actually live. To sit in a café without snapping a picture of the cappuccino. To visit a museum without filming a Get Ready With Me beforehand. To read a book simply for the pleasure of reading, rather than to post a highlight under “Bookshelf” on Instagram.
The antidote? It’s painfully simple. Get a hobby. Go outside. Read something. See something. Learn a skill that doesn’t involve staring at a screen. Because the truth is, personal style isn’t about what you wear—it’s about who you are. And until the girls develop personalities outside of their For You Pages, we’ll all just be living in one giant, aesthetically pleasing echo chamber.
So go. Wear something bizarre. Do something unexpected. And for the love of all things chic, put the phone down.
