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PAUSE Highlights: Is Streetwear Really Dead?

Unpacking the Ever-Evolving Narrative.

Streetwear. Just the word itself ignites a spectrum of images: the coveted trainers, the effortlessly cool graphic tees, the baggy silhouettes that seem to speak volumes without a single uttered word. Once dismissed as a transient fad, relegated to the rebellious fringes of subcultures, streetwear has exploded onto the global stage, dissolving the traditional boundaries between luxury and everyday wear. But as the relentless fashion cycle continues its dizzying spin, a critical question inevitably surfaces: Is streetwear truly dead, or is it merely shapeshifting, evolving into its next, perhaps more mature, iteration?
To grasp the pulsating rhythm of streetwear today, we must first rewind the clock and delve into its authentic, gritty origins. Streetwear isn’t some overnight sensation; it’s a rebellious child born from the raw energy of genuine subcultures. Let’s go back to the sun-drenched skate parks of 1970s California, where surfers and skaters craved practical, durable clothing that could withstand their dynamic lifestyles while also serving as a canvas for their burgeoning identities. Simultaneously, in the vibrant hip-hop scene of 1980s New York City, a distinct aesthetic emerged – oversized shirts, baggy jeans, and bold accessories that mirrored the raw, street-level energy of the music.
It was during this fertile period that pioneers like Shawn Stussy began imprinting his iconic signature, initially on surfboards, onto highly sought-after apparel, laying the groundwork for a global movement. We saw the indelible connection between music and fashion cemented by moments like Run-D.M.C.’s endorsement of Adidas trainers in the mid-1980s, instantly elevating a brand from athletic gear to a cultural touchstone. The 1990s witnessed this ethos blossom with the emergence of powerhouses like Supreme in New York and A Bathing Ape (BAPE) in Japan. These brands cultivated a sense of exclusivity, pioneering the concept of limited-edition drops and highly anticipated collaborations that fuelled an almost insatiable desire for uniqueness amongst their burgeoning legions of fans.

PHOTO CREDIT: Stussy

So, how do we define streetwear in its purest form? Historically, it’s been about comfort and individuality: the effortless drape of baggy clothes, the bold statement of a graphic t-shirt, the undeniable allure of a hoodie, and, perhaps most crucially, the trainer as a fashion centrepiece. It was often categorised as a counterpoint to “high fashion,” a defiant statement against the rigid, often inaccessible structures of traditional luxury. Yet, this perception began to undergo a relevant shift.

PHOTO CREDIT: Carmen Regueiro / @carmenreg

The zenith of streetwear saw it breach the very bastions it once rebelled against. Brands like Supreme transcended their cult status to become household names, their collaborations with luxury giants like Louis Vuitton sending shockwaves throughout the industry and blurring lines previously considered immutable. This was the era of unprecedented hype, if you remember there was a genuine euphoria around specific items that transcended mere clothing to become cultural artefacts. From frenzied queues for every new Air Jordan release, or the iconic impact of Off-White’s collaborations with Nike – Virgil Abloh’s deconstructed takes on classic trainers ignited a fervent collectors’ market and cemented his status as a visionary. Designers like Demna Gvasalia at Vetements and later Balenciaga, and Virgil Abloh with his work, unapologetically thrust streetwear aesthetics onto haute couture runways. This was the era of the “hypebeast” in full bloom, characterised by an almost feverish pursuit of limited-edition items, instant gratification, and overt brand recognition. The queues outside shops, the rapid resale market, the endless scroll through online drops – it was a phenomenon  driven by a thirst for exclusivity and a desire to be part of an ever-evolving cultural moment.

PHOTO CREDIT: Carmen Regueiro / @carmenreg

But then, as with all phenomena, a shift began. The relentless churn of collaborations and drops, once thrilling, started to lose its cutting edge. The “hypebeast” aesthetic, once fresh and rebellious, began to feel, dare we say, a bit uniform, even predictable. The very luxury brands that had eagerly embraced streetwear’s cool factor started to pivot, experimenting with more refined, tailored silhouettes. Even the designers who had championed the movement, having seemingly exhausted its initial energy, began to explore new creative avenues. The raw, DIY spirit that defined early streetwear seemed to dissipate somewhat as it became increasingly commercialised, mass-produced, and, some might argue, diluted.
Does this signal the definitive death of streetwear? Absolutely not. While its undeniable mainstream omnipresence might have receded from its peak, it certainly hasn’t vanished. Instead, it’s recalibrating, returning in many ways to its roots, evolving, and finding new epicentres of creativity across the globe.

PHOTO CREDIT: Carmen Regueiro / @carmenreg

Streetwear, far from being dead, has simply decentralised, finding new epicentres of creativity across the globe. In Los Angeles, the scene remains a dynamic blend of its surf and skate heritage fused with Hollywood glam and strong hip-hop influences, seen in brands like Born X Raised.Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, South Korea continues to carry the streetwear legacy with brands like ADER Error, We11done, and thisisneverthat. Seoul has emerged as a global fashion powerhouse, seamlessly blending conceptual design with gender-neutrality and minimalist sophistication.

PHOTO CREDIT: Carmen Regueiro / @carmenreg

Europe also shows a strong pulse for streetwear. Spain, perhaps a less obvious player, has cultivated a thriving scene, particularly in Madrid and Barcelona. Brands like Nude Project, Scuffers, SSSTUFFF, and TwoJeys have gained significant traction by blending authentic street style with the enduring appeal of the “hypebeast” mentality, injecting fresh energy into a market often considered “dead.” Spanish streetwear embraces comfort and aesthetic, drawing inspiration from urban art and local subcultures. Beyond these hubs, Tokyo’s Harajuku remains a spot of emerging trends, while London’s grime scene influences a gritty, utilitarian aesthetic. Berlin, on the other hand, leans into a more minimalist, monochrome look, reflecting its underground art and techno culture. This global patchwork demonstrates streetwear’s universal language of self-expression, adapted and localised by diverse communities. Furthermore, a new generation of brands like Amiri, Fear of God, Golf Wang, Aimé Leon Dore, Kith, and Palm Angels are redefining the term, while offering a new creative direction.

PHOTO CREDIT: Carmen Regueiro / @carmenreg

So, what’s next for fashion, and by extension, for streetwear? The fashion industry is, at its core, a cyclical beast. History has consistently demonstrated that every trend, every aesthetic, eventually experiences a resurgence. While the overt “hypebeast” era might have reached its saturation point, the fundamental elements of streetwear are deeply ingrained in modern wardrobes and cultural consciousness. For now, it continues its quiet, powerful revolution on the streets and screens worldwide, proving that true style, much like the dynamic pulse of urban life itself, is never truly gone, and as it should.

PHOTO CREDIT: Carmen Regueiro / @carmenreg

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