Fashion’s Next Great Trend Is…

I promise I’m right.

You know about the miniskirt index. You know about the lipstick index. You know about the conspiracy about the correlation between pizza delivery orders to the Pentagon and impending war. The more you look at almost any data points, the more correlations you’ll find. Maybe necklaces leaving the red carpet was a recession indicator after all?

(If you analyze it, it will come.)

But the one true market force I believe in is vintage. Whatever is happening at vintage fairs will become mainstream within 6 months to a year. (My genius friend Liana of Neverworns has a preternatural ability to sense what vintage trends will resurface.) This is not just a theory—I have proof.

When the Ballet Russes sold their costumes in 1967 and 1968, hussar jackets started to appear on Mick Jagger. Around that same time, Granny Takes a Trip was importing block prints from India, soon to appear on Patti Boyd and Marianne Faithfull. Once Mick and Marianne were into it, suddenly everyone else was, too, and the boho look of mismatched old clothes was born. Grunge came from the charity shop, and 20 years later, so did Y2K nostalgia.

So I went to A Current Affair, a preeminent vintage fair, determined to uncover some truths about what’s next. The last time I really trawled there was before COVID. Helmut Lang, Martin Margiela, Comme des Garçons were all the hot tickets. The avant-garde of the 1990s was on the rails and everyone’s HF Twitter username had Margiela or Lang in it. (Some still do.)

Over the past weekend, the vibe had shifted from the fashion minimalist to something else. Iridescent Romeo Gigli blouses and crinkled Mary McFadden silk dresses appeared across multiple vendors. There was plenty of Zohran and Zhandra Rhodes, and a petulant beige-black silk chiffon skirt set from Bill Blass with real fur trim. As I passed the fitting room to look at myself trying on a Voyages scarf—more on that later—a girl was wrestling a bohemian scarf dress in ochre and orange to stay on her shoulders. “You have to get it!” I cheered, walking by. Across the room, another woman assessed a completely sheer lilac slip. There was more true vintage Yves Saint Laurent—from the 1970s, peasant era–spread across vendors than I recall ever seeing before. I spent 10 minutes trying to convince my friend Emily to buy this transparent Rozae Nichols blouse (a steal at only $148!).

This all started to feel oddly familiar: digging through shreds of chiffon with tiny glass seed beads, trying on whimsical 1930s deco shawls—two of which I tried at A Current Affair, both priced over $500. When I was 14, my mom took me to a store in the West Village stuffed with these kinds of fanciful, whimsical, romantic pieces. Not too saccharine, but the wardrobe of a countryside doyenne living in hazy squalor. Little Edie of the Cotswolds.

After the fair, I texted my diligent group of shopper friends and asked them to define the vibe. Lynette and Liana both put their finger on the “CBK-infused greige-dom” (Lynette) and “ladylike shoes” lingering from Ryan Murphy’s show and Pinterest boards. But Rachel nailed it: “Jemima Kirke / Geminola gossamer melancholy.”

Geminola was the jewel box I had visited as a teen, founded by Kirke’s mom, Lorraine, and stuffed with bizarre, elegant, mischievous little wares. Tutu skirts alongside hand-embroidered slips. Crushed silk bows. Devoré velvet. The air in the store was almost sepia.

We are moving towards romo-boho.

(That’s romantic-bohemian, and, yes, I will accept suggestions for other names!)

As I wandered, watching the shoppers, it was obvious. Long chiffon skirts with tiered ruffles layered over jeans—something I see almost daily on my trek through Dimes Square towards our office. Sheer tops worn with silk cord belts. Rachel’s vintage astrakhan coat with a white fur collar had a romo-boho spirit, and so did Lynette’s Junya jacket, made to look like it was stolen from the Louvre archives. I was even wearing seashell jewelry and a crepe SC103 dress!

The Owner of Funka Nova vintage

Look closely and you can see the movement towards well-worn, rich fabrics; small, hand-embellished details; and that melancholy spirit across culture. It’s in Olivia Rodrigo’s wistful teasers for her new album (and her vintage-y Anna Sui dresses). It’s in the Conner Ives upcycled opera coats that have become the uniform of well-dressed women around the world. It’s in Jonathan Anderson’s open admiration of Paul Poiret. It’s what Danielle Haim, My’hala, and Emma Chamberlain wore at the Oscars. It’s Valentino! And it’s how Tish Weinstock dresses every day!

It’s Voyages—the fashion brand founded by the Mazzilli family in London in the 1990s. The store reportedly required a membership to enter (Kate Moss, approved. Madonna reportedly denied, even though she ended up in Voyages during her CoExIst phase in the late ’90s). It trafficked in incredible, one-of-a-kind slips, jackets, dresses, skirts, and bags all finished with hand-done beading and trims. Worn by Helena Bonham-Carter (patron saint of romo-boho) and Cher alike. It’s chronicled by an amazing Instagram archivist here and full of the inspo you will need to be ahead of the 2026 romo-boho resurgence. And if you see me jangling about in my blue devoré velvet wrap with glass-bead fringe, come say hi. Let’s go vintage shop together!

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Anny Choi, the world’s greatest bridal stylist, gound a chamomile velvet Maison Margiela dress from the Matthieu Blazy reign, and Emily Farra, mastermind of the Toryssance, picked up a Giambattista Valli tweed jacket with flat silk bows. Both quite romo-boho adjacent, if you ask me.