“Sooner or later, everything old is new again.” Nowhere does this credo ring truer than in the world of fashion. Trends are cyclical and come back into style like clockwork. But there’s a look taking over runways, red carpets, and social media that takes the Stephen King quote to a completely new level.
The Eastern Seaboard might call it “yard sale core,” while the rest of the country will swear up and down it’s “garage sale core.” (Being from Connecticut, home of the tag sale, that’s the moniker I prefer.) But to keep this geographically inclusive, we’ll go with “decluttercore.” The idea behind this trend is turning found objects into fashion, detritus into design, litter into luxury. In theory, it sounds chaotic—think spoon-covered tops, corsets fashioned from shoes, boxers Frankenstein-ed together to form a skirt. They’re the kinds of looks that once upon a time would have been conceived, mercilessly criticized, and swiftly died within a single unconventional challenge on Project Runway. But over the past decade or so, they have found legitimacy in the eyes of both capital F fashion people as well as the average trend follower, signaling that fashion doesn’t always have to be so serious. It can be kooky, it can be out-of-the-box, it can be ugly at times, while still remaining inherently fashion.
Miley Cyrus wears a Maison Margiela dress constructed entirely out of safety pins.
Lionel Hahn/Getty Images Entertainment/Getty Images
Greta Lee wears a Hodakova corset crafted from a deconstructed riding boot.
Corey Nickols/Getty Images Entertainment/Getty Images
If you’ve been paying attention to some of the biggest stars of the moment, you should already be familiar with decluttercore. Miley Cyrus attended the Grammys in February wearing a Maison Margiela creation completely comprised of safety pins, albeit ultra-glamorous gold ones. Ayo Edebiri celebrated the premiere of the third season of The Bear in a Loewe gown fashioned out of a curtain-adjacent fabric inspired by, well, actual curtains you might find at an estate sale.
Several indie designers have been championing the aesthetic to an even more dramatic degree. Take, for instance, Dilara Fındıkoğlu’s cutlery dress worn by Hari Nef at the Los Angeles premiere of Barbie last summer—a perfect antidote to the film’s hot pink press blitz. Earlier this month, Cate Blanchett stepped onto the red carpet in a Hodakova halter top made of 102 upcycled spoons that quite literally caused a stir (and a commotion—they jangled when she walked).
In the past, such unorthodox looks would have perhaps been deemed too weird or too far outside the boundaries of the conventional red carpet glam that dominated the pages of US Weekly. To wear such a top, or say, a dress crafted entirely of prize equestrian ribbons would be a surefire way to land on every worst-dressed list. But today, the definition of what constitutes someone as “best-dressed” has expanded, thanks in large part to designers who are emphasizing sustainability and innovation—both concepts with which Hollywood stars are wise to align themselves.
A dress crafted from equestrian prize ribbons from the Hodakova fall 2024 collection.
Courtesy of Hodakova
Of course, sustainability has been an important facet of fashion for quite a while now as the industry contends with its massive negative impact on our environment. Despite efforts, high consumption and high fashion still very much go hand-in-hand, but a TikTok-led push has helped to place thrifting and “flipping” in the spotlight. There is now pride in one’s voice when telling a friend they thrifted a dress. Vestiaire Collective, ThredUp, and The RealReal have created an easy way to shop sustainably without leaving the house, while celebrity stoop sales allow the geographically blessed to shop the closets of Jenna Lyons, Chloë Sevigny, and Paloma Elsesser. ThredUp’s 2023 Resale Report found that the resale market will be worth $350 billion by 2027, with Gen Z and Millennials making up two-thirds of consumers. These generations are returning to the days of the make-do and mend movement of the 1930s and ’40s, at a time when resources were at a minimum. Why add to the ever-growing landfill when we can instead pull inspiration (and materials) from it?
Even within the greater fashion industry, decluttercore has been bubbling beneath the surface for years. Emily Adams Bode Aulja has built both a cult and celebrity following for her imaginative designs often utilizing upcycled quilts and curtains. It’s an approach that took her all the way to Paris Fashion Week, where she debuted her first women’s pieces as part of her fall 2023 collection. Similarly, Eli Russell Linetz sent A$AP Rocky up the 2021 Met Gala stairs wearing a colorful thrifted quilt and would go on to win the LVMH Prize in 2022.
Meanwhile, many of Julia Fox’s decluttercore looks—a skirt made of tiered bargain-bin boxer shorts, a top fashioned out of neckties—often serve as a way for her to champion independent creators who’ve been upcycling for ages. Those who eschew traditional paths and instead rely on Instagram to market their designs. Nicole McLaughlin is one such designer who’s known for her tongue-in-cheek transformations, creating sweatshirts out of underwear and shorts out of hats. Cierra Boyd is another. Boyd, who has created looks for Cardi B, caught the world’s attention when Olympic gold medalist Sha’Carri Richardson wore the designer’s top comprised of Nike Dunk sneakers to the men’s final basketball game in Paris.
Decluttercore has also fully gone couture. There’s John Galliano’s aforementioned showstopping Margiela safety pin dress. At Balenciaga, Demna proved there’s beauty in everyday ephemera when he sent gowns of bras, basketball shorts, and inverted gym bags down the couture runway last season. Jonathan Anderson, arguably the industry’s king of craft, regularly incorporates utilitarian and unorthodox materials into his collections at both JW Anderson and Loewe. He has embellished dresses with giant keyboard letters, blown-up knitting needles to serve as belts, and created flowing skirts from ribbons that could easily have been pulled from a box of discarded party decor. Even those viral, life-like bird clutches resemble a figurine one may have been admonished for touching at their grandparents’ house.
A look from the Balenciaga fall/winter 2024 couture collection.
Courtesy of Balenciaga
Some of these pieces that might constitute as decluttercore—Rocky’s quilt, Bode’s jackets, Larsson’s dresses—are a part of that move toward secondhand high fashion. The designers truly created treasure from another man’s trash. Other pieces though, may just act the part. Yes, Edibiri’s Loewe dress looks like it came from an upcycled curtain, but that fabric was created specifically for the season, and the provenance of the cutlery used in Fındıkoğlu’s designs is unknown. But this embrace of thrifting has likely allowed for the acceptance of unconventional looks.
Thus, decluttercore has many forms, from pieces created from a true thrift find or just manufactured to resemble a great estate sale haul. Either way, the trend has unlocked a playful side of fashion. And the beauty of decluttercore is that it’s for everyone: It’s for the thrifters, for the Scarlett O’Haras who look at a curtain and see a beautiful gown. It’s for the magpies who buy up every pendant necklace at an estate sale and roll their eyes at Coco Chanel’s famous accessory removal quip. It’s for those with an eye on sustainability and those who just want to stand out. It’s the pinnacle of high and low, trash and treasure, accessible and rarefied and hopefully, it will inspire you to imagine your own clutter in a new sartorial light.
