This is Connecting the Dots, a series in which writer José Criales-Unzueta looks at how fashion, pop culture, the internet and society are all interconnected.
There are two things that bring out patriotism in a person: sports and politics.
This year, there’s a crossover in the US between the 2024 Olympic Games and the presidential elections. The International Olympic Committee has underscored the importance of leaving politics out of their arenas — often to external criticism — but when it comes to fashion, these rules don’t apply. Football jerseys have become a street style staple, yet what has most likely made them appealing to your everyday fashionphile is that they are designer items rather than truly sports merchandise. For every national team jersey worn in street style photos — Brazil happens to be a big favourite — there seem to be two by a designer, say, Martine Rose, Conner Ives, or Comme des Garçons.
Past the trendy soccer jerseys, and the occasional “Vote!” dress worn by a First Lady or celebrity, patriotism has fallen out of style in our every day, though high fashion has been giving it a go at the high concept level, to mixed results. Think Daniel Lee’s emphasis on Britishness at Burberry or Pharrell Williams’s Western collection for Louis Vuitton.
Rather than straightforward team spirit, patriotism has become somewhat of a cultural undercurrent manifested in fashion. But it’s been less about love for one’s country and more focused on often esoteric subtleties woven into high fashion brands. With the ongoing Olympics, patriotic fashion seems to be resurfacing, but the real question is, is anyone actually buying into it?
Lovely weather for ducks!
Daniel Lee presented his first collection for Burberry in February of 2023. In between his monochromatic Burberry checks and many trench coats was a little handknitted bonnet in the shape of a mallard. Ducks also figured in prints and graphics. It was all a nod to Burberry’s return to Britishness, Lee explained. “Burberry flies the flag for Britishness and for the UK and for culture,” the designer told Vogue ahead of his debut. When he was announced as taking on the role, there was an emphasis on Lee’s Britishness following Riccardo Tisci, an Italian. It’s something the designer, along with former CEO Jonathan Akeroyd, embraced wholly.
The strategy seemed sound and straightforward enough at the time, though, when paired with the label’s high-end luxury aspirations and price increases it did not pan out as planned. This past May, the company said that its operating profit dropped 34 per cent compared to 2023, and its Q1 results for fiscal year 2025 showed that retail sales fell 22 per cent. Akeroyd left Burberry last month.
While there’s much more to the Burberry conversation than its Britishness, it’s worth questioning if there is still room for such specificity in fashion today. Heritage is important to brands, and from aesthetic, cultural, and archival perspectives it’s certainly worth preserving. Yet a global and extremely online-driven industry has challenged the effectiveness of this nature of geo-oriented messaging. Does a customer abroad — in Asia or the US — care for Britishness? “French girl” fashion might be endlessly mythologised on Pinterest mood boards and TikTok clips, but it’s less about French flags and heritage and more about a certain… je ne sais quoi.
Similarly, the idea of American sportswear sells because it evokes comfort and pragmatism, yet a pair of jeans by Ralph Lauren does not equal an American flag. Such aesthetic nuance is the reason why these more abstract concepts work. One is not buying into the country or its politics or its traditions by consuming these clothes. The product is aspirational, and what one aspires to is not the nationality but what the look represents in culture. For Americans, culture and comfort, perhaps, and for French folks, a little chicness and sophistication. Should Lee more succinctly distil Britishness into his lineup moving forward, we could then be having a different conversation.
Paris, Texas
In the air this year was the cowboy of it all. What is particularly interesting about how contemporary pop culture stateside consumes and regurgitates its own lore is that it often comes as entertainment with a tinge of satire or critique. That’s what made Pharrell Williams’s Black cowboy-inspired collection at Louis Vuitton — together with collaborations with Native American artisans — and Beyoncé’s country journey with Cowboy Carter particularly interesting to consume, almost at the same time.
Despite the criticism it is packaged with — American history, particularly as told from the perspective of Black or Native Americans, is fraught with injustice and discrimination — there is still a sense of patriotism to both these outputs. The concept, after all, is cultural storytelling. “We’re expressing ourselves from a place of love, not judgement,” Williams said in January after his show, “just think about telling your story and telling your people’s story as best you can and doing it candidly and with love — that’s the overwhelming feeling.”
Williams, with his platform as a celebrity in addition to being a designer, is perhaps in a unique position at Louis Vuitton, a French heritage brand, to do something like this today. His collection included well-received collaborations with Timberland and lots of trendy, and very American, workwear. Check back in in the autumn to see how it performs once it hits stores.
Made in China
A key trend in the Chinese market through the pandemic is what was known as “Guochao”. This aesthetic, which features products imbued with Chinese cultural tradition, is a byproduct of the country’s nationalistic sentiments, which increased during the pandemic as focus shifted inward and its leaders looked to promote self-sufficiency and reduce reliance on international products. This led to a deprioritisation of international luxury brands in favour of home-grown fashion. It did not quite reach its full potential as a trend, though it has now mutated into what has become known as “New Chinese Style”, where designers lean into Chinese cultural tradition and an East-meets-West aesthetic with a more sophisticated point of view, as opposed to Guochao’s streetwear focus.
As it was explained to me while I was visiting showrooms and discussing retail trends in China with local buyers earlier this year at Shanghai Fashion Week, the idea first received a tepid response in the market, but recently gained traction as Shanghai exited its 2022 lockdowns and designers returned to the runways. New Chinese Style has reportedly garnered significant attention online since Chinese New Year, and is, I’m told, performing increasingly well offline with a young demographic that is looking for a deeper connection and uniqueness in their fashion purchases. The look leans into “China-chic” and is a riff of the style of the “tai tai”, a colloquialism for a wealthy married woman. In broad Western terms, it’s a local version of quiet luxury, which has shown potential for the luxury market amid a global slowdown. It remains to be seen whether the trend will find global potential — there are, after all, cultural nuances to consider (plus possible concerns with cultural appropriation). Still, independent designers have found opportunity and differentiation in New Chinese Style. Thinking locally works, unsurprisingly, when the objective is local.
The Olympic flame
The Olympic Games has made the idea of patriotism in fashion more abstract. Jacquemus has partnered with Nike in what, he told me over email at the time, was a collection and campaign meant to honour Paris and France. “For me, the most important thing was to represent France and its best talents, culture and history,” he wrote.
Polo Ralph Lauren is the official outfitter of Team USA for the 2024 Olympics and Paralympics, and it has also released a line of merchandise, including some pieces that will be worn by athletes. The USA swimming team has partnered with J.Crew for a capsule, too, and Skims has released its own line of Team USA-emblazoned pieces.
Fashion has developed a taste for getting involved with these massive cultural moments to hopefully stake a claim (see LVMH being the official sponsor of the 2024 Olympics). But what’s most interesting about the intersection of sports, politics and fashion this year is that it serves as a measuring unit for where exactly we stand with patriotism culturally, and, perhaps oxymoronically, globally.
France and the UK just-barely avoided big shifts in their leadership at recent elections, and the presidential race in the US just shifted dramatically last week. And it’s in politics and Olympics merch where this wave of patriotic fashion will land. It may not have quite stuck the landing in high fashion, but expect to see those Kamala Harris “Brat” tees everywhere this summer. Apropos, a friend texted me yesterday that he bought a Kamala Harris tee in a XXXL size to wear “in a fashion way”. That might just be our next frontier — politics meets fashion in patriotic merch. Remember the Balenciaga edit of the Bernie Sanders logo? Might be time to dust those off.
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