ecember has
always been
fashion’s
most theatrical month. It’s the season of sparkle, late nights, velvet textures and outfits that exist purely for drama. It’s when wardrobes shift from practical to playful, when getting dressed feels more intentional, and when what
you wear says more
than usual. But this
year, something
deeper is
happening in
fashion —
something less
about trends
and more
about who
we’re dressing
for.
Because
quietly but
undeniably,
the narrative
has changed.
Women are no longer
dressing for
men. We’re
dressing for
ourselves.
We’re dressing
for our friends.
We’re dressing
for our
daughters.
We are dressing
for other women.
And that shift? It’s
everything.
When I get dressed, genuinely, there isn’t a man in mind. I’m not thinking about whether something is “attractive” in the traditional sense or ticking the box of what women are “supposed” to wear. I’m thinking: Do I love this? Does this feel like me? Will my friends hype me up? Will my daughters smile when they see it? That, for me, is the new gold standard.
Fashion used to be filtered through a male lens — slim this, soften that, bare this, hide that, appeal here, don’t intimidate there. But women today are done tailoring themselves to fit into someone else’s idea of beauty. The male gaze doesn’t run our wardrobes anymore. Community, confidence and identity do.
Now we dress for the girls.
We text outfit photos in group chats.
We borrow each other’s accessories.
We notice the texture of coats, the cut of trousers, the power in a boot.
We compliment each other more than anyone else ever could.
And honestly? It hits different
There’s something powerful about being admired by another woman. It comes without agenda.l
D