Less Than Zero Style: Privilege Never Looked Accidental
There is a shot in Less Than Zero — Bret Easton Ellis's 1980s Los Angeles rendered in linen and cocaine and the specific beige of people who have never had to try — where the clothes do more narrative work than the dialogue ever could.
There is a shot in *Less Than Zero* — Bret Easton Ellis's 1980s Los Angeles rendered in linen and cocaine and the specific beige of people who have never had to try — where the clothes do more narrative work than the dialogue ever could. Polo Ralph Lauren blazers worn with the sleeves pushed up. Gucci loafers on feet that have never touched pavement for longer than the walk from valet to lobby. Calvin Klein in white, always white, because white is the colour you wear when you are never afraid of ruining anything.
The film is having a moment, and the moment is not accidental. Fashion is doing what fashion always does when it runs out of new ideas: it raids the archive of a decade that understood excess without apologising for it. The 1980s did not perform wealth — it installed it, literally, in the construction of a shoulder pad, the weight of a logo, the specific way a Ralph Lauren collar sits when you have worn Ralph Lauren your entire life and your body has simply adjusted to it.
What Ellis understood, and what the costume department translated faithfully, is that privilege has a texture. It is not about expensive clothes. It is about clothes that have been expensive for so long they no longer read as expensive — they read as normal. That is the more disturbing trick. The Gucci is not flashy in *Less Than Zero*. It is simply *there*, the way furniture is there, the way the swimming pool is there. Nobody comments on it because nobody needs to.
This is what separates 1980s aspirational dressing from what we do now. Now we announce the label. The logo faces outward, the brand tag is visible, the entire architecture of the outfit is constructed to be read at a distance. In Ellis's L.A., the label faces inward. The knowledge of it is private, shared only between the wearer and anyone wealthy enough to recognise it without being told.
Hailey Bieber has been photographed in Los Angeles this week — summer date night, the formula filed away for reference — and she wears her clothes with that same cultivated casualness, that studied un-trying. The mechanics are identical. The decade is different. The wealth is the same.
Fashion is never really about clothes. It is about who gets to act like they forgot to try.