The current generation of youths dressing like their grandparents represents an emotional return to coziness, tradition, and fine craftsmanship. Warmth that is both tangible and symbolic is provided by oversized sweaters, quilted jackets, and crocheted vests, which have evolved into contemporary forms of expression. The way our grandparents approached style—carefully, purposefully, and with pride—and the way that current generations are redefining what it means to dress meaningfully are remarkably similar.
The trend toward “grandmillennial” aesthetics in fashion signifies a departure from glossy modernity and a move toward something incredibly sentimental, tactile, and human. This look is driven more by nostalgia and a profound appreciation for what feels real than by irony. According to House Beautiful, the grandmillennial trend started with interior design elements like ruffles, embroidery, and floral prints before flowing naturally into clothing. Familiarity is what makes it appealing; the style whispers rather than shouts.
Priya Ahluwalia, who was inspired by her grandfather Harbans “Harry” Ahluwalia, masterfully conveys this feeling through her patchwork suits and repurposed textiles. A new form of sustainability that values memory just as much as material is reflected in her designs. She turns repurposed textiles into clothing that feels remarkably modern and grounded at the same time. This strategy has been very successful in the fashion industry, where sentiment is now just as important as style.
| Name | Priya Ahluwalia |
|---|---|
| Profession | Fashion Designer |
| Nationality | British-Indian-Nigerian |
| Known For | Sustainable fashion and upcycling |
| Brand | Ahluwalia |
| Education | University of Westminster |
| Awards | LVMH Prize Finalist, Queen Elizabeth II Award for British Design |
| Reference | https://www.vogue.co.uk/fashion/article/priya-ahluwalia-profile |
Because the trend transcends rather than rejects eras, it feels especially innovative. Sydney Pimbley, a graduate of Central Saint Martins, created an award-winning line of fabrics that honors heritage and imperfections, based on her grandmother’s collection. Among the same furnishings and fabrics that influenced Pimbley’s early recollections, her grandmother even served as a model for the collection. Love is at the heart of this aesthetic, which holds that clothing tells tales long after its original owners have passed on.
A similar energy is channeled by Emma Zacks, founder of the vintage boutique Berriez. Her late grandmother Edna served as the inspiration for her brand, and Zacks’s curation is now rooted in her collection of silks and microsuede jackets. Her approach is particularly evident in the way she links empowerment and nostalgia. She is demonstrating that sentimental fashion can also be incredibly progressive by using vintage clothing to promote body inclusivity and self-expression.
This trend’s psychological aspect explains why it has such a strong emotional pull. According to fashion psychologist Shakaila Forbes-Bell, wearing clothing that has been passed down through the generations provides emotional stability. There is continuity when we wear something that has been passed down or even something that looks like what our grandparents wore in the past. Clothing with historical significance offers stability in an uncertain age, much like donning a piece of resiliency. The allure is especially advantageous in a society that values speed over content.
Designers who have perfected the art of converting nostalgia into creative energy include Olivia Cheng of Dauphinette. Her collection, which frequently features repurposed vintage leathers and furs, aims to provide forgotten beauty with new meaning in addition to looking vintage. Cheng creates pieces that are both classic and bold, effectively bridging the gap between comfort and creativity. She is among a number of young designers who are demonstrating that innovation can come from the past rather than from its defiance.
By using only found materials to create her collections, Ella Wiznia of The Series has elevated this idea to a new level. Her commitment to redefining sustainability as a sentimental art form involves working with embroidered linens, crocheted blankets, and abandoned quilts. Her creations preserve the work and artistry that might otherwise disappear, and each one feels like a love letter to craftsmanship. Her method is especially creative since it focuses on what is already available, redefining what we think of as luxury.
Brands that embrace patchwork, embroidery, and vintage tailoring, such as Bode, Carleen, and Psychic Outlaw, have also had a significant impact on the broader movement. Younger consumers who are looking for significance in their clothing are drawn to these brands. It is “an evolution of normcore,” according to fashion forecaster Hallie Spradlin, who calls it comfort-driven but richer in texture and story. The fabrics are remarkably appealing because they have a lived-in, purposefully imperfect feel.
Celebrities have only increased awareness of the aesthetic. Pearls are worn like heirlooms by Harry Styles. A simple knit became a cultural phenomenon thanks to Taylor Swift’s cardigan moment. Soft, vintage layering that seems lifted from an old family album has even been embraced by Bella Hadid. These well-known people have made it apparent that dressing like your grandparents is about reclaiming emotional depth in fashion, not about looking elderly.
The appeal extends beyond fashion. Beneath the knitted vests and satin blouses, there’s a deeper social pulse that stems from intentional living. Customers are yearning for slowness as a result of fast fashion’s relentless pace. That’s what vintage apparel provides. It encourages stopping to consider how each stitch withstands the test of time. This return to slower aesthetics feels surprisingly liberating to younger generations that were brought up on fast-paced trends.
According to 3347’s designer, Courtney Pedersen, the movement is a response to overstimulation. Her large pieces are purposefully grounding because they are made from old printed fabrics. “When everything moves too fast, dressing like your grandparents becomes a form of comfort — a way to slow down,” she says, relating the aesthetic to a larger emotional rebellion. Her sentiment, which explains why this trend is growing rather than waning, seems remarkably accurate.
This move toward calm fueled by nostalgia is even reflected in interior design. This fashion trend is perfectly complemented by the resurgence of floral curtains, doilies, and elaborate china sets. It’s a visual embrace, the aesthetic language of care. When combined, home and fashion design show how society has historically looked for warmth, producing rooms and outfits that feel lived in rather than staged.
Additionally, there is a fascinating cultural undertone: a subdued reclamation of sentimentality and tenderness. “Things that are warm, sweet, celebratory, and colorful suggest craft and domesticity,” according to Pedersen. Her observation perfectly encapsulates the movement’s dual emotions of tenderness and defiance. Wearing tactile, historic textiles becomes a means of reestablishing a connection with something fundamentally human in an era where expression is frequently filtered through screens.
The success of the trend, seen in a larger context, demonstrates a profound redefinition of elegance. Modern luxury now celebrates authenticity where it once meant perfection. The aged pearl necklace, the slightly frayed hem, and the scuffed leather briefcase all contribute to the story. This perspective turns fashion from a commodity into a narrative.