Details: Gap dress (Poshmark), J. Crew blazer, Ferragamo shoes (both thrifted)

Details: Babaton turtleneck (thrifted), Ralph Lauren skirt (thrifted), Topshop skirt (swap), Amaryllis jacket (thrifted), Mia shoes

Details: Wilfred top, Tyakasha jacket, Citizens of Humanity jeans, Barbara Barbieri shoes (all thrifted)

Details: unlabelled jacket, Ralph Lauren skirt, BR belt, Barbara Barbieri shoes (all thrifted)

Details: Cleo skirt, St. John top, Wilfred vest (all thrifted)

Friends, it’s time to talk about one of my current pet peeves: “stealth wealth fashion” aka “old money style”.

In case you’ve been blessed to live in a social- and traditional-media-free world, “stealth wealth” is an aesthetic “characterized by material quality, timeless style and superior detailing, with a focus on what makes high-end clothing worthwhile” per Judith Jones in Who What Wear. It’s embodied by the Loro Piana sweaters worn by Gwyneth at her ski trial and the wardrobe of Succession’s Shiv Roy. Of these folks, Jones writes “they’re nonchalantly elegant and coolly collected rather than overtly exhibitionist. They make a statement without having to try to make a statement.”

In other words, they wear clothes that “don’t shout but whisper.” Because, as we have been taught all these years, “money talks, but wealth whispers.” Gag me!

The concept of stealth wealth is not new. As Clara Thorp writes for BBC, it’s about “[b]uying understated products for their quality, beauty and rarity, but not leaving the price tag on (metaphorically speaking) so only those in equally wealthy positions would recognize the monetary value of the item.” Guys, the rich have been doing this since, well, the invention of rich people. Are you even rich if you can’t gatekeep other people? The answer is no. Being subtle about it isn’t a sign of ‘classiness’, no matter what they might want you to believe. After all, the rich buy yachts and private jets too, and those are anything but subtle. The subtlety is extra gatekeeping by way of an inside joke; the more obscure the signal, the easier to miss for the un-initiated. The rich be laughing at the wannabes wearing $500 cashmere sweaters while wearing their $5,000 cashmere sweaters. Stealth wealth occupies an inner circle that will forever be N+1 away for the non-wealthy, N being the outermost limit of reach.

Some people would like to reframe stealth wealth in a more positive way, hypothesizing that “stealth wealth” is trending (again) because, in the midst of financial crisis, “flaunting extreme expressions of wealth looks tone deaf.” I dunno, peeps; Marie Antoinette cosplaying as a shepherdess didn’t stop the French Revolution. Because that’s what it comes down to, you know. In an exploitative system like capitalism, rich people’s cosplay of an average person’s lived experience is always inherently more valuable than the real thing. Thorp reports someone saying (with a straight face) that “King Charles is kind of a fashion icon … [because] he does wear the same clothes kind of forever”. You know, not unlike the average person who doesn’t get millions of tax dollars for merely existing … except totally different. In fact, Tatler magazine “recently named holey socks – as recently spotted on the King – as a stealth wealth symbol.” Read that again. Holey socks. I f*cking can’t.

There are plenty of articles slobbering all over stealth wealth fashion with “how to look expensive for less” advice which is so oxymoronic I can’t even begin. There is no “stealth wealth for less”, ok? The best that the average person can ever get is the Halloween Spirit version of a Rich Person Cosplaying As Poor outfit. That is not stealth wealth. That is simply another way to fetishize extreme wealth. And doing it on the back of exploited garment workers who make the fast fashion-masquerading-as-rich-people-cosplaying-as-poors-clothing. It would be sublimely absurd if it wasn’t actually terrible.

“But what about holey socks, Adina?” you ask. “I have holey socks too!” I’m sorry to tell you, it doesn’t matter. King Charles’s holey socks are a symbol of his stealth (colonial) wealth, your holey socks are a symbol of sloppiness. Because you are not wealthy and you cannot buy your way into wealthiness. Rich people can always cosplay as poor because their access to power is a given, and power can do whatever it wants.

I am with Eva Wiseman, who writes in The Guardian:

Perhaps I would mind this ‘quiet luxury’ less if the clothes were fabulous. But, instead, they’re bloodless, grandly bland, dreary … Why should the rest of us buy them – what good are the clothes without the power?

What good indeed?

She goes on to say:

… the reason we’re encouraged to invest our bitter pennies in rich people’s fashions has very little to do with the clothes themselves. While we’re spending all our money on a pair of slippers, we’re distracted from the real work of fighting for economic equality … toppling rotten power structures and overthrowing the billionaire class – we’ve been cheated into feeling as if we’re in their club because we’re wearing the same brand hoodie. … Buying into ‘stealth wealth’ feels like buying a band T-shirt, except the band are the worst people in the world, and the T-shirt costs the same as a month’s rent, and the music is them laughing as they shout “Eat shit” from a car. With the greatest respect, no thank you.

Here’s where we need to make some decisions.

Do we care about the environment or nah?

Do we care about human rights and justice or nah?

Do we care about ever-accelerating wealth disparity or nah?

Because if we do, we have to stop glorifying obscene wealth. We have to stop writing admiringly about Gwyneth’s thousand-dollar sweaters, and Chuck’s holey socks. We have to stop positioning these people – and their clothes – as aspirational. Stealth wealth fashion is the product and a symbol of an exploitative, oppressive system. What are we celebrating here?

Details: Gap dress, Ralph Lauren turtleneck, Ports International blazer, Free People belt (all thrifted)

Thoughts: I love wearing this dress with a corduroy or tweedy blazer – the juxtaposition is just *chef’s kiss* to me. I ended up doing a bit of layering, Papa Ralph style. I prefer mixing my southwestern pieces (clothes and accessories) with preppier ones so I avoid a full-on cowgirl aesthetic, which isn’t really my vibe. I think this is the direction I am going to explore more this summer.

Details: Liz Claiborne dress (thrifted), Prairie Trail Good vest

Thoughts: I took advantage of the suddenly-hot weather to pull out my fave summer dress from hibernation. Fully leaning into the rainbow thing with this outfit, and I loved it. It’s been a while since I wore something so unabashedly colourful in public (blame winter) and I did have a moment of hesitation — would I stick out like a sore thumb? That’s the thing about owning your style; it takes practice being “brave”. I put that in quotes because I actually hate it when people say they’re not “brave enough” to wear something other than neutrals in public. You don’t need courage; you need practice. Sure enough, after 5 minutes, I felt at ease. It might take a bit longer if you’ve never done it before, but try it! Wear something that makes your heart sing even if it feels a bit risky.

Details: Mackage jacket, Twik tee, Zara boots (all thrifted), Gap skirt (swap)

Thoughts: Still loving this skirt! It’s forcing me to be a little more adventurous with my outfits, a little bit more streetstyle. It’s always good to push the boundaries of your comfort zone a little bit; it can lead to the opening up of new horizons and living in discovery is my motto. My fave part of this outfit is the bright magenta tights — such a fun element!

Details: Ines de la Fressange x Uniqlo shirt, Ralph Lauren vest, Topshop pants, Ferragamo shoes (all thrifted)

Thoughts: This was inspired by a Ralph Lauren-styled outfit in a recent Vogue magazine; it was the brooch-on-vest styling that intrigued me. The original inspo also involved a men’s tie, which I loved but found difficult to replicate. The ties I tried (from my husband’s collection) were all rather too long to tuck in without looking bulky. Alas. This worked really well too; I enjoyed this outfit a lot.

Details: Ralph Lauren jacket, Nocona belt, Margaret Godfrey skirt, Canadienne boots (all thrifted)

Thoughts: I’m taking another styling tip from Papa Ralph and experimenting with using scarves as a visual layer, specifically in place of a turtleneck or shirt collar. A pop of contrast colour at the neck — thanks to a small, light scarf — adds extra depth to the outfit. I loved how this tip elevated this outfit, and I’m planning a few more experiments in this line.