Opinion | Fashion’s latest trend? Send in the clowns. Just ask Harry Styles and Bella Hadid

Is high fashion running low on ridiculous trends?

I knew something was up at the Grammys this year when a shirtless Harry Styles prowled the red carpet in flared overalls patterned with a gridlock of colourful diamonds. It looked like a tattooed farmer had mugged a Vegas birthday clown.

Now we know that was the master plan.

According to ELLE magazine, “Clowncore Is the Trend of the Season.”

As the magazine noted, “the theme of the clown” was “literally everywhere at the spring 2023 couture shows in Paris.” It seems there is a fashion-forward yearning for “harlequin prints” and “decorative top hats,” to conjure “the fantasy of a ringleader.”

What does that mean? No idea. I’m wearing a button-down. But as the New York Post declared: “‘Clowncore,’ the trend rocked by Harry Styles and Lady Gaga, is no joke.”

Maybe not for them. Maybe not for Bella Hadid. Maybe not for the lithe disciples of Dior, Chanel, Marni or Armani Privé. Maybe not for the supermodels who strut the catwalks. Maybe not for the superstars who suck oxygen out of award shows in grommeted medieval boots and bedazzled thongs.

But for everyone else, clowncore is a joke — and no laughing matter.

Fashion has a rich history of bizarre trends that tend to recycle, which means it’s only a matter of time until Mr. Styles rocks a codpiece or whalebone corset. Or powdered wig and crinoline. Or blazer with shoulder pads accessorized with neon leg warmers.

Fashionistas adore Harry. Me, I don’t get it. One day, he’s on the cover of Vogue in a ruffled gown. The next, he’s got on pearls and a cardigan draped over a sequined collar with the wingspan of a 747. Would it kill this bloke to just once don khakis and a Gap sweatshirt so the rest of us are not subliminally influenced and then accidentally show up for work tomorrow looking like a sexy Rubik’s Cube?

No, haute couture. No. Now is not the time for clowncore.

The world is already lost in a walk-in closet where serious problems hang on every rack. Climate change. War. Economic instability. Geopolitical strife. Inflation. Artificial intelligence. Grocery prices that are totally out of control. I have stumbled upon sirloins over $50 and a jar of honey that cost more than the shoes I was wearing.

A Fabergé egg is now cheaper than a dozen edible ones from Loblaws.

But, Harry, how can we roll up our sleeves if we don’t have any?

Hashtag searches for #clowncore on TikTok are closing in on 500 million. There are tutorials on garish makeup and tips on baggy pants. Half the world does not have clean drinking water and the other half is sticking red balls on their noses.

I can already hear a chorus of court jesters telling me to relax because clowncore is one per cent fringe and will never go mainstream. Stop. I heard the same argument about skinny jeans. Then all of a sudden I was stutter-stepping like a claymation stickman with no feelings from my toes to nether region because the only denim available within a 50-kilometre radius was limited to a clingy sheath for my legs.

I’m not a ballerina. I’m not an action figure. I just want to sit down without crying out in pain. You know why birth rates have plummeted? Skinny jeans!

And now high fashion wants to send in the clowns.

We should have seen this abomination coming a few years ago when Gucci released a “Sea Beast” campaign starring extraterrestrials. It was a bonkers marketing mix of time portals and $13,000 embroidered velvet coats, and blue aliens with platinum bobs and $800 midheel leather mules, and cryptically alarming copy such as: “There’s a small but very real probability that every atom in our body will be dispersed throughout the sector. It’s best if you go alone.”

This led W Magazine to ask, “Is Gucci Casting Space Aliens as Its Next Super Models?”

No, W. It was just earthlings pretending to be space aliens. But it is time for high fashion to stop launching the crazy into outer orbit. What’s next? A trend in which we are all encouraged to drop thousands for the zeitgeist privilege of looking like gender-bending ghosts? Will #fossilcore see the world’s leading designers dream up ways to make us look like chitinous skeletons entombed in amber?

If you feel drugged, it’s because in a quarter-century we’ve zoomed from heroin chic to clowncore. Since Y2K, we’ve been trapped in an endless silly season and fashion just keeps doubling down on the silly. Clowncore my derriere.

The Elle story included a gallery that felt suspiciously like an April Fool’s joke. Really? The trend of the season is to cosplay as Ronald McDonald?

For crying out loud, high fashion, clowns are terrifying. I don’t want to be ordering bottle service next to one next Saturday. I recall reading a magazine story as a kid about John Wayne Gacy. I couldn’t sleep for a month. Pogo? Patches? Is that you?

Now Harry Styles is nightmare fuel with the visage of a rural gigolo about to crash a hootenanny after the fall harvest. Bella Hadid should not look like a playing card.

It’s 2023. We’ve got real problems. The last thing we need is clowns.

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