... and why you should ignore them completely
As we all complete another successful circling of the Sun without an over-sized meteorite knocking us off course, our thoughts can turn towards those key questions that 2026 poses: who will win the World Cup; will those clever boffins at CERN finally discover the secrets of dark matter; and what are the essential ‘must-haves’ for my wardrobe?
Thankfully, we don’t need a crystal ball or a multi-billion pound tunnel under Switzerland to answer the third. The major fashion houses and trend-setting cognoscenti have already opined: classic tailoring is being reinvented with nouveau proportions and details, think powerful silhouettes with cinched waists, strong shoulders, cropped jackets; multi-layered outfits mixing unexpected combinations with an emphasis on fluid, soft outlines and ease of wearability; colourwise, expect a departure from a more subtle, quiet palette in favour of vibrant tones, clashing hues and expressive contrasts. Above all, we are told, 2026 style stresses that personal identity, not rigid conformity, is key.
Well, thanks for that.
Leaving aside the apparent contradictions within even that brief overview, the debate about precisely what’s ‘in’ and what’s not remains a minefield and I for one am opting out. I’m not in any way knocking those at the very top of the fashion industry for their brilliant creativity, sharp talent and ground-breaking originality. All I’m saying is that I’m more than happy to spectate from a comfortable distance.
Yes, when I see a guy walking purposely around Soho with a loose, deconstructed pyjama-like flowing trouser in ballerina pink or a bright yellow t-shirt over a contrasting shirt, I’ll think, ‘Fair play, well done, you’re at the cutting edge.’ But at the same time, I’ll also be musing, ‘Yeah, I’d look ridiculous in that. I’m so glad I’m in my well-fitting, flattering shirt and trousers combo.’ Reliable, subtle, elegant, refined — and at a fraction of the cost of the couture artwork that just floated past.
The problems inherent with acquiring the very latest trends are manifest and legion. A trend’s most alluring product isn’t a particular jacket or trouser, it’s that pang of panic: the feeling that you might otherwise be behind the curve, that you’ve been missed off the circulation list, that you must ‘update’ or be left behind. It’s great for sales, usually trouble for your wardrobe and certainly disastrous for your wallet.
If your clothes rack constantly needs fixing, you’ll drain your account by buying stuff that probably doesn’t suit you and even though you may be ‘on trend’ for the couple of months (weeks?) in which that the piece actually is fashionable, by the time you’ve bought it and found the ideal event in your calendar at which you could legitimately carry it all off, the leaders of the fashion world have already moved on. You’ll be so ‘last week’. They say a week is a long time in politics, in fashion it can be an epoch.
Nor does the trend merry-go-round give two hoots about your actual day-to-day life. Runways and lookbooks are built for impact. The silhouette that astounds from twenty metres or raises gasps of awe under a blanket of flashbulbs is not designed for normal life. Situations like sitting on a tube, standing on a bus, walking down a packed high street, dropping off the kids at school, eating, sweating, bending, working, dating, existing. Here’s a test: does my outfit look stylish and make me feel confident as I rush to the nearest tube stop, rucksack slung on my back, to catch the Northern line to my next appointment?
If you look at trends in terms of first principle economics they again fare pretty badly. As rational beings we are fully aware, if we are honest with ourselves, that fashion trend purchases are the most expensive buys, coming top of the pops in the ‘cost per wear’ league table. A trend outfit feels cheap the moment it starts to look dated, and its very raison d’etre is to date, and date fast. The cheapest garment is the one that you wear the most; the most expensive is the one you wear twice and then avoid because it screams ‘January 2026’.
In any event, I’m a total believer in not contracting out your feelings of self-esteem to a fashion trend, instead build confidence by working out what suits you and your body. Buy clothes which make you feel comfortable, that fit now, that complement your hectic lifestyle, that make you ooze confidence by how they fall over your body. And build that confidence from the base layer outward.
The unsexy truth about fashion is that often the most essential clothing decisions you make are the ones no-one actually sees. But you know. I’m talking about your favourite silken-smooth low-rise trunks, you know the ones, the ones you always prefer to save for best. I’m talking about those velvety-soft socks that you treat your feet to when heading to your favourite restaurant on a date or anniversary. The gymwear you only wear when you know your gym-crush is there or when your new year’s keep fit resolution demands the perfect look. The dream-like loungewear that you only wear once you’ve cleaned the house from top to bottom and taken a luxuriant thirty-minute bath soak so your body and its surroundings can now justify that embrace.
My advice for 2026 is simply this: wear that underwear, those socks, that gym outfit, that loungewear combo today, and tomorrow, and the next day. Why wear them twice a year or only ‘for best’? Wear them everyday, treat yourself to continuous luxury, spend your hard-earned cash on stuff that’ll put a spring in your step on a damp trudge to school on a Monday morning in January, on a fog-filled commute back from work on a Tuesday afternoon in February and on a pre-dawn early run on a frosty Wednesday in March. And if you choose the correct brand, those clothes will last and last and last. Rational, common-sense spoiling — everyday.