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It’s 9pm on a Sunday evening and I am engaged in a verbal sparring match with a non-sentient being. You see, I have decided to outsource my week’s outfit choices to ChatGPT, and despite my best efforts, it is insisting on dressing me almost exclusively in high-waisted trousers and tailored blazers. “Make it more fashion forward please,” I reply for a third time, with barely contained aggression. “Certainly!” it chirrups. “Here’s an elevated winter outfit that combines warmth with style…” What follows is an eight-point plan, which includes “chic and edgy” leather leggings, knee-high suede boots and an “oversized plaid scarf.” I start to wonder if ChatGPT is, in fact, the digitally-preserved soul of Gok Wan circa 2006.
I first heard about ChatGPT while on a weekend away with friends back in November 2022, when someone showed me a new AI tool that could, seemingly miraculously, compose in-depth responses to all manner of queries – from the philosophical to the poetic – in a matter of seconds. I duly asked it to write an article on how to style wide-leg jeans, and within 10 seconds ChatGPT had reeled off a convincing 500-word piece that would’ve taken me hours to write. I quietly excused myself and had an existential meltdown in the downstairs bathroom.
It seems I wasn’t alone. For many creatives ChatGPT has become a looming threat, spoken about in hushed tones. Will this technology ultimately replace human creativity? Will my job still exist in five years’ time? Will ChatGPT be the next guest judge on RuPaul’s Drag Race? AI has already been at the heart of a number of public disputes in the creative sphere, from last year’s SAG-AFTRA strikes to Sarah Silverman’s decision to sue OpenAI (ChatGPT’s parent company) for copyright infringement. Yet, as our day-to-day lives become increasingly intertwined with AI, it’s becoming harder to understand where human input ends and that of the machine begins.
“My concern with AI in the fashion world – and the broader creative world – is that it isn’t collaborative or spontaneous,” explains writer and culture critic, Charlie Squire. “A computer programe can design something interesting, something new, but that thing lacks the conversational process of contextualisation that art has. And without that context, I think our clothes (and thus ourselves) will feel increasingly detached and unfulfilled.”
Dr Dion Terrelonge, a chartered fashion psychologist, expresses similar concerns: “To develop personal style, we need the safety and space to take risks. How can we explore our own tastes when we are constantly having what an algorithm believes we should like presented before us? Relying on technology to make creative choices for us reduces our opportunities to flex our creative muscles.”
Still, “ChatGPT fashion” has been trending on TikTok (over four billion views and counting). Creators are turning to the platform for fashion advice, whether it’s to recreate the aesthetic of their favourite It-girl or to put together their next party outfit. For some, this might sound like the death knell for personal style, but you could argue that an online tool trained on vast quantities of data isn’t so different from the mishmash of human experience that forms the bedrock of individual taste. As Squire so succinctly puts it: “Plenty of computers make good art. And plenty of people have bad taste.”
I wanted to put ChatGPT to the test, so I asked it to plan my outfits over the course of a week, using a variety of prompts that broadly reflect the sort of knowledge and skills a fashion expert might use in their work. So, trying not to think about what Gabrielle Chanel would have to say about this dystopian vision of fashion’s future, I entered my first prompt. Here’s what happened.
Monday: The trends test
I decided to start with the basics: I asked ChatGPT to create an outfit that is “on trend” for 2024. I was about to discover that ChatGPT likes to reply with the sort of glazed enthusiasm you’d expect from a cable shopping channel host. “Sleek! Bold! Futuristic! Geometric!” it yelled at me.
If I was being generous, I would give ChatGPT points for the jumpsuit (one of my favorite pieces from the spring/summer 2024 runways was one by Saint Laurent), and I suppose “futuristic trainers” could be a reference to the industry’s current obsession with metallic sneakers. Unfortunately, it lost me at “statement geometric accessories” – all I could think of was Kate McKinnon as Weird Barbie. I adapted the look with a vintage boilersuit, Adidas Gazelles and JW Anderson’s Bumper bag (geometric-ish?). I give this look a seven out of ten.
Tuesday: The styling test
Test number two: can ChatGPT give me tips on styling one item in particular? Enter stage right: a pair of vintage corduroy trousers I recently bought on Depop. I was half expecting it to tell me to throw on a tweed blazer and a monocle (cut back to Sunday evening, when a prompt about “Grandpacore” yielded: “Add suspenders and a vintage watch for a touch of timeless charm”), but I was pleasantly surprised by its choice of a “fitted knitted sweater or a button-down shirt”. Quite JW Anderson, no?
Inevitably, the tailored blazer made a cameo in the response, alongside the Noughties ankle boot and “stylish” sneaker. However, by taking ChatGPT’s advice with a generous pinch of salt, I ended up with an outfit that I was happy with. Eight out of ten.
Wednesday: The originality test
What constitutes “good taste” and “bad taste”, “original” and “unoriginal”, is constantly shifting. So perhaps it was reductive for me to be asking ChatGPT such a subjective question; but I was intrigued to see the results. Would a program built on a “lowest common denominator” approach to culture be able to create something that feels fresh?
Props to ChatGPT for recommending a “vintage graphic tee” – pre-loved clothing is a good way to inject originality into an outfit. But then, of course, it fell back into shopping channel territory with “distressed denim jeans” and a “unique leather jacket”; “bold, unconventional jewellery” gave me flashbacks to those jewelry-making kits from the ’90s. The generic nature of the response ultimately left me cold. Four out of ten.
Thursday: The archive test
Fashion is one big merry-go-round when it comes to inspiration, so an understanding of archival references is a key part of any fashion creative’s toolkit. For Thursday’s outfit, I decided to test ChatGPT’s know-how using one of my favorite ’70s It-girls, the effortlessly androgynous French singer-songwriter, Françoise Hardy. The response? “High-waisted trousers”, “a tailored blazer”, “minimal accessories”, “ankle boots”… the gang’s all here. It did, however, throw in a “fitted turtleneck sweater”(bien sur) and “sleek loafers”, both of which, I’ll concede, lend the outfit a sort of Gallic charm. Not bad. Eight out of ten.
Friday: The practical test
Please don’t mess this one up, ChatGPT, it’s cold outside, I thought to myself as I typed out my fifth request of the week, my patience starting to wear thin. But then, a January miracle: an outfit made up of an entirely new set of items. An oversized sweater! Leggings! Knee-high boots! A wool coat! Here was a veritable smorgasbord of fashion, and I was famished. I picked up my oversized vintage Prada knit and paired it with leggings, a pair of black knee-high boots and a cocooning wool coat from Gant. I skipped the suggested “stylish hat” (so close, ChatGPT) in favor of a cobalt-blue scarf that I threw on just before I left the house. Nine out of ten.
Saturday: The Vogue test
I originally asked ChatGPT to create an outfit inspired by Joy Montgomery, but the suggestion it generated was a “vibrant yellow knee-length dress with floral patterns, paired with a matching sun hat”. Dear God. I changed my prompt to “Vogue editor”, and the result was… quite something. We had officially entered caricature territory – all pencil skirts, high heels, big sunglasses and withering looks. I felt like a little girl trying to dress like “mommy going to work”: shuffling around in giant heels, a ladylike handbag on her arm and necklaces trailing on the floor. I tried to give it a Saint Laurent spin with a white tank top and ’70s sunglasses, but in the office my colleagues, who were mostly dressed in Wales Bonner tracksuits, were confused by this sudden swerve into corporate chic. Five out of ten.
Sunday: The moodboard test
I was ready to go rogue for my last day in the ChatGPT styling suite: a last ditch attempt at creating something that ventured beyond the Pinterest algorithm. First, I consulted an online random person generator, which spat out Bob Hope, Justin Timberlake and Abraham. Okay, a little too rogue. So I chose three disparate individuals myself: Noughties David Beckham, Dot Cotton from Eastenders, and Hailey Bieber.
“Picture this,” ChatGPT began, to dramatic effect. “Start with a sleek leather jacket reminiscent of Noughties David Beckham, add a touch of Dot Cotton’s classic floral patterns in a silk blouse, and finish with Hailey Bieber’s modern twist – distressed denim and ankle boots.” We had hit the jackpot. It was a fun mishmash of references that resulted in an outfit I – shockingly – didn’t hate. It inspired me to pull out an old vintage floral shirt that I hadn’t worn for years, which looked pretty great with my “Noughties David Beckham” leather jacket. Of course, ankle boots and distressed denim were wheeled out again, but what fashion journo hasn’t repeated themselves when writing their fifth story of the week on Hailey Bieber’s style? Nine out of ten.
ChatGPT may never replace genuine human innovation, but with the right prompts and references it can become a sort of smart digitized moodboard. It’s the sewing machine, not the seamstress; the wardrobe assistant, not the creative director. What does ChatGPT think of its styling prowess? “While ChatGPT can mimic certain aspects of human creativity within the constraints of its training data," it says of itself, "it doesn’t truly comprehend concepts or possess the depth of creative thinking inherent in human cognition.” I think I can consider my job safe – for now.