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Fashion has always held up a mirror to the world — but in 2025, that reflection is more fractured than ever. Between the curated aesthetics of womanhood and the lived realities of women, a gap has emerged.
After a fleeting era of body positivity, size inclusivity has regressed. According to the Vogue Business Autumn/Winter 2025 size inclusivity report, only 0.3 per cent of the 8,703 looks presented across 198 shows and presentations were plus-size (US 14+), down from an already dismal 0.8 per cent last season. What was visible? Comically bouncy fake breasts at Duran Lantink strapped to the chest of a slender, white male model that audience members laughed and pointed at, which caused some backlash online.
Meanwhile, 2023’s Barbie-fuelled reclamation of girl power gave way to a more insidious resurgence: conservative ideals of femininity have now been rebranded as aspirational through the tradwife aesthetic, popularised by the likes of influencers Nara Smith and Ballerina Farm. It’s a transition that social media says is best encapsulated by PrettyLittleThing’s recent rebranding. Out are bodycon dresses and lash extensions; in are subdued palettes, matrimonial motifs like virginal white taffetas and satin gloves, and Stepford wife-inspired modesty.
Curvaceous silhouettes were all over the AW25 catwalks, but you had to look hard to find curvy models.
This tension in fashion reflects wider cultural shifts. Around the world, women’s rights are under siege: reproductive rights are being rolled back in the US and parts of Europe; trans women are facing relentless political scapegoating and legislative attacks; and the global wellness complex, supercharged by drugs like Ozempic, is once again narrowing the margins of acceptable femininity.
The industry can be reactive, or it can be responsible — and in this moment of reckoning, the difference matters. Consumers are already wising up to the gap between glossy representation and real accountability, and many are fed up with the narrow, often harmful ideals of womanhood still being peddled as aspirational.
“We’ve all really felt the regression of size inclusivity and diversity alongside these conflicting references to femininity and there’s definitely consumer fatigue,” says fashion commentator Ashantéa Austin. As a result, she says consumers, herself included, are now demanding more from the brands they buy from — not just performative messaging, but deeper commitments to equity, transparency and designs that respect and reflect the diversity of women’s lives.
Unfollowing the algorithmic-amplified woman
For the better part of the last five years, the figure of the ‘girl’ — pink, playful and perpetually youthful — dominated cultural consciousness. She was the face of balletcore, the coquette revival and internet aesthetics built on a saccharine cocktail of bows and Taylor Swift. Wrapped up in the language of the ‘girlboss’, which preceded this era, it was used as a vehicle to promote a certain type of empowerment: a soft, palatable feminism that looked cute on Instagram but often sidestepped the messier realities of inequality, labour and power.
“The figure of the girl doesn’t feel right for this moment — she took over during the last administration, and we’ve just entered a political era that feels more disruptive and masculine,” says American Style newsletter writer and ‘Nymphet Alumni’ podcast host Biz Sherbert. “I think people also wised up to the emptiness of the girlhood aesthetic as it was being offered. It was total ideological candy floss — there is power in protecting and uplifting girlhood, but that rarely came across in popular representations of it in consumer culture.”
However, in her place, fashion is beginning to grapple with harder edged and sometimes more troubling expressions of womanhood, each with aesthetic codes and ideologies. The tradwife is told to embrace submission in the name of ‘divine femininity’. Meanwhile, the pink Pilates princess channels empowerment through relentless self-optimisation — sculpting her body through daily reformer classes, wrapped in pricey athleisure. Even the mob wife, seemingly defiant, often reaffirms patriarchal power through glamour, devotion and via suggesting autonomy lies in being adjacent to dominance rather than wielding it oneself.
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“Women are confused — marketing, advertising and constant streams of content tell us how we should or shouldn’t be, how to get more from life and from men,” Sherbert says. “It’s left many trying to figure out what kind of femininity is most profitable for them.” She notes that we live at a time where fine-tuned gender expression and beauty possess high value. “These trends, like quiet luxury, have been around for years, but I think some women are wearing them now in part to adapt to our cultural and political environment — as a means of gaining or aligning themselves with power, or as a means of survival.”
But as one TikTok creator said: “We’re done being aesthetic. We want to be heard.” The question now is how can brands listen meaningfully?
For women designed by women
According to Vogue Business data, of the 35 major luxury brands analysed (the top 30 luxury brands in the Vogue Business Index, plus five new designer appointments) only nine were led by women. This is despite McKinsey’s 2024 ‘The State of Fashion’ finding that brands with gender-diverse leadership teams financially outperform peers by 25 per cent.
“We are in a creative loop, the same men doing the same thing with the same tired ideas of womanhood. People that will never and have never experienced what that is. We are stuck,” says fashion commentator Kim Russell. The size inclusivity backslide on the runway reflects this point, presenting a singular version of beauty via the male gaze.
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Indeed, of the top 10 most size inclusive shows at Paris Fashion Week, eight were led by women. In New York, women helmed seven of the top 10 brands; in London, it was half. But it’s not just about who’s casting more diverse bodies — it’s about the message behind the clothes. This season, collections by women designers felt more emotionally charged, more rooted in lived experience and more expansive in their vision of what womanhood can be.
“Fashion holds the power to influence perceptions of femininity, with certain elements tied to long-standing cultural narratives seen in the media,” agrees Kay Barron, fashion director at Net-a-Porter, who adds that these trends are impacting how women feel they should present themselves or express their identity.
Backstage at Miu Miu AW25, Miuccia Prada reflected on femininity’s role in the modern moment, telling Vogue Runway’s Sarah Mower: “Do we need femininity in this difficult moment to lift us?” While pointing to the bullet bras that had just roamed the runway. “The question is: what do we retain of femininity? Does it help in this really dangerous moment? In wartime?”
Questioning womanhood and exploring what it can be has always been central to Miu Miu’s ethos, whether that be through its eclectic, female-gaze driven clothing or through initiatives like its Women’s Tales series, book clubs and consistent celebration of women across age and experience. The brand now carries an almost philosophical stance on women and fashion, which has translated into extraordinary growth. Prada Group’s financial reports highlight 2024 as a banner year for Miu Miu, with retail sales jumping 93 per cent year-on-year — growth almost unheard of at this scale — and revenues nearly doubling to around €1.2 billion.
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“A woman is such a complex identity. We are not just one thing and can’t be reduced into a single aesthetic or ideology, and what Miuccia Prada does so brilliantly is understand this,” says Austin. She observes that Miu Miu’s brand identity is continually evolving, extending the narrative past the clothes through cultural initiatives like literary and film clubs that uplift women in the arts. “It’s telling consumers, ‘This is actually the history behind why we’re making the clothes the way we do,’” she says of Miu Miu’s enriched world-building. “You can tell that the books within the book clubs are the real books that Miuccia and the team are reading and using to inspire their work.”
Austin adds that the brand’s “anti-algorithmic” design language, be it mismatched footwear on the runway or the collision of seemingly contradictory styles, reflects a refusal to cater to trend cycles or narrow archetypes. “There’s something for everyone because it [Miu Miu] really does touch on that spectrum of femininity and what it is to be a woman,” she says. “Even myself, some days I want to get really dressed up and dolled up and be very traditionally feminine. And then there are times where I want to lean into fetishwear — leather and corsets. I’m both of those things and none of those things.”
The commercial success of brands like Miu Miu proves there is a powerful appetite for more nuanced, emotionally resonant portrayals of femininity — ones that reflect the complexity of real women’s lives, rather than reducing them to aesthetic archetypes. It’s a space that a new generation of brands is already beginning to claim.
Canadian-based brand Aritzia considers women integral to its workforce. “As a women-led company — with 75 per cent of our senior leadership, 90 per cent of our retail leadership and 74 per cent of our workforce made up by women — Aritzia’s commitment to authentically representing the women we serve is deeply embedded in everything we do,” says a spokesperson for the brand. But the company’s emphasis on equity, diversity and inclusion (DEI) is not just internal but extends to its product offering, too. Aritzia’s collections are designed to resonate with a broad spectrum of women, reflecting diverse body types, ethnicities and styles, and are marketed via its popular ‘The Power of Confidence’ events and ‘Women to the Power of Women’ series. “That commitment has fostered a strong sense of community at Aritzia, which has been a powerful driver of our success,” the spokesperson adds. Indeed, in the third quarter of fiscal 2025, Aritzia reported an 11.5 per cent increase in net revenue to $728.7 million, with US revenue surging by 23.6 per cent.
Marine Serre is another compelling case. With an all-women leadership team since 2022 (and a reported 20 per cent sales increase in the year that followed), Serre has proven that a value-driven, inclusive approach can translate to both commercial and critical acclaim.
If you value women, prove it
“Womanhood doesn’t have to be expressed through one single aesthetic and you’ll never cater to all women, but if you’re designing with women’s bodies and experiences in mind — thinking about how the clothes empower the body and the person wearing them — that’s when you create something truly powerful,” says artist and designer Michaela Stark.
It’s what drives Stark’s business strategy. Her ready-to-wear lingerie label Panty’s size range runs from 2XL to 5XL and includes garments tailored for transgender women — a commitment she says is core to the brand’s identity. “During the body positivity era, a lot of brands used plus-size models in campaigns but didn’t actually make clothes that fit those bodies. I think about how the clothes interact with flesh, how they move. That’s the job,” she adds.
New entrants such as Karoline Vitto are also championing this shift. Vitto’s eponymous label offers garments from UK size 8 to 28, an approach that has garnered global acclaim. Notably, her Milan Fashion Week SS24 debut, supported by Dolce Gabbana, featured an entirely mid or plus-size cast, including Ashley Graham and Paloma Elsesser, earning an LVMH Prize nomination and global stockists. Similarly, New York-based label Ester Manas has built its entire identity around inclusive sizing and body-conscious design. A finalist of the 2023 Andam Award, the brand has carved out a loyal following for its sensual, size-fluid collections.
But designing responsibly costs more and takes longer — and too many brands aren’t willing to make that investment, notes Stark. Instead, womanhood is aestheticised and algorithmically amplified; a mood board to be mined, rather than a lived experience to be understood. “Brands should stop reacting so quickly and commodifying womanhood or whatever cultural moment is happening,” she says. Rather, they should genuinely consider women from every part of their business, including the areas consumers don’t see.
This surface-level commitment to womanhood — empowering in ads, exploitative in the women-dominated factories of the Global South — echoes through much of the industry. “In a way, I feel it’s a form of greenwashing,” says Russell. “You’re not empowering us if you’re not employing us, hearing us, paying us fairly, treating us fairly. You can’t do the basics, let alone the clothes.”
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It’s why some designers are pushing for change that reaches beyond the runway. Aurora James, for instance, launched the 15 Percent Pledge to hold retailers accountable, urging them to dedicate 15 per cent of shelf space to Black-owned brands — a tangible shift in supply chain power. Stella McCartney uses her platform to lobby for fashion legislation, backing the EU’s proposed ban on forced labour imports and calling for traceability across supply chains. Meanwhile, London-based Ethiopian designer Feben has cultivated long-term relationships with artisans in Accra, Ghana, which she described to Vogue Business as “really cool because it’s lifting their business up”. Last December, Feben also hosted a life drawing workshop to support Sistah Space, a vital charity supporting Black women affected by domestic abuse. Whereas Collina Strada’s Hillary Taymour uses her shows as a statement — casting models of all sizes, abilities and gender identities — while partnering with climate-focused initiatives to offset her collections’ carbon footprint.
That’s not to say male designers can’t be on the right side of history. Conner Ives’s “Protect the Dolls” tee, in support of the trans community, has become a potent cultural symbol amid intensifying backlash against trans rights. First worn by the designer while taking a bow following his AW25 show, the slogan T-shirt quickly gained momentum, spotted on figures like Pedro Pascal, Haider Ackermann and Troye Sivan. Net sales are approaching £200,000, with all proceeds going to non-profit Trans Lifeline. “Moments like these remind me why I do this. Clothes that become something bigger,” Ives wrote on social media after Sivan wore the tee during the first weekend of Coachella.
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“In 2025, fashion remains a charged arena of image manipulation, illusion and assertion — especially for women navigating a world still projecting its ideals onto their bodies,” says trans activist and fashion consultant Rylé Tuvierra, who’s also known as The Fierce Walker. For brands, it should also mean looking beyond the traditional capitals of fashion power, she adds. “Through my work with tourism boards, I visit overlooked cities, local schools and emerging creative hubs — and I consistently meet designers and storytellers who deserve global platforms but are invisible because they lack access,” says Tuvierra. It also means evaluating internal decision-makers not just on performance but on purpose. If they’re not rooted in empathy, inclusivity and long-term vision, they shouldn’t be shaping culture, she says.
If the industry wants to move beyond surface-level tokenism, it must make room for real plurality — not just in who gets seen, but in who gets to shape what’s seen.
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