Food costs have been front and centre in newsreels as of recent months, whether through Trump-inspired ‘eggflation’ or farmers’ protests against Labour’s inheritance tax policies. It’s unsurprising, therefore, that the fashion world has capitalised on this cost-of-living craze, making luxury items desirable by associating them with culinary delights. Though its uptake is a recent phenomenon, the association between food and fashion has a storied history.
Elizabeth Goodspeed traces the involvement of food in fashion back to Elsa Schiaparelli’s 1937 lobster dress, popularised by Wallis Simpson. The Italian designer was a friend of Salvador Dalí and drew inspiration from Surrealism, notably Dalí’s own Lobster Telephone of 1936, to create the gown. It has had a long afterlife, with Anna Wintour wearing a gown inspired by the original for the 2012 Schiaparelli-themed Met Gala. Two years later, Karl Lagerfeld staged a Chanel runway in a supermarket, and Kristen Stewart was photographed for Elle in a similar setting: clearly, cuisine has been fertile ground for experimentation among fashion tastemakers for some time. However, it is only recently that incorporating food into fashion went mainstream.
The current ‘food-core’ vogue found its footing in 2020, when many sought to escape the dark times of the pandemic with whimsical and colourful fashion choices. The Lirika Matoshi strawberry midi dress, one of quarantine’s most buzz-worthy items, communicated this need saliently. Multiple food-centric niches grew from this COVID-era trend, such as the ‘strawberry girl’ aesthetic, which combines a fruit-inspired palette with stylings reminiscent of the ‘50s. For designer and fashion consultant AJ Valentine, this movement mirrored other popular ‘recession-core’ pieces like ballet flats, which are “optimistic, cheeky, saturated in colour, and reflect the simple joys of life”. The everyday world had become an object of romanticisation for those who emerged into adulthood during lockdown.
Food aesthetics continue to be instrumental in building a pop culture titan’s image. Celebrities have taken advantage of such fads to develop consistent branding, such as Sabrina Carpenter, who released her Cherry Baby fragrance the same month as her hit album Short n’ Sweet. As with many Gen Z trends, millennial nostalgia looms overhead, with these products calling back to fruit-flavoured Lip Smackers and Victoria’s Secret body sprays.
A recent advert by Swiss sports brand On features Zendaya in a fake film trailer sporting prosthetic ears and leaning against a punching bag made of cereal flakes. The eclectic use of breakfast food contributes to the inherent goofiness of the parody, but it’s also part of an elaborate commercial strategy; it wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t marketable. Last year, the Galliano gown she wore to the Met Gala featured fruit accoutrements at her waist and around her arm.
Other celebrities have cashed in on the trend through their own beauty brands too – a notable example is Hailey Bieber’s strawberry glaze-flavoured lip treatment with Krispy Kreme in 2023, and her strawberry glaze skin smoothie one year prior.
Bieber has been the driving force for many food-related trends in fashion and makeup, helping to popularise neutral-heavy ‘latte makeup’ around the same time as her lip collaboration. Despite having nothing to do with coffee,the fact that trendsetters labelled it as such is evidence of ‘food-core’’s selling power in the world of post-pandemic beauty. In her recent collaboration with Fila, the promotional photoshoot features Bieber driven to distraction by her nails (also a frequent site of food inspiration) and spilling coffee on the floor. Another sees her spilling groceries out of a bag with a dummy and baby bottle in her hand, seemingly portraying a new mother struggling to balance her responsibilities. However, the consumer knows implicitly that this suffering is for show to appear relatable in a time of economic downturn.
In March, the British Retail Consortium reported that consumers continue to expect to spend most of their money on groceries. Rising food inflation, a new packaging tax, and increases to staff costs all threaten to push supermarket prices even higherFor many, it is simply not an option to waste food or spend extra on name-brand items.
The lipstick index, a marketing hypothesis linking periods of economic recession to the increased sales of more affordable luxuries, may help explain the appeal of pairing food with fashion. When applied as a form of price anchoring, this juxtaposition situates food as the more attainable luxury, even as its own costs rise, reinforcing the exclusivity of designer brands. Yet food’s new elevated status can also confer cultural prestige onto the item or brand it accompanies, creating a dual effect to amplify desirability.
This extends down to the consumer: where influencer ‘hauls’ previously featured premier beauty products and accessories, airtime is now devoted to the art of ‘fridgescaping’ – rearranging one’s household essentials as though curating an ornate exhibition – or even unpacking groceries, a clear marker of our heightened food insecurity.
Grocery shopping – once little more than a mundanity – has been increasingly glamorised in everyday fashion as a result. Following a Balenciaga collaboration bringing grocery bags and coffee cups to the runway, the Los Angeles chain Erewhon remains the site of social media buzz thanks to their coveted smoothies and singular $19 strawberries originating from Japan. Erewhon has cemented itself as a leading name in wellness aspiration, offering an exclusive nutritious aesthetic in an era equating status and health. The integration of food into fashion has moved beyond experimental or subversive anomalies to a prolonged commitment depicting food as a luxury. While earlier blends of the two centred delicacies such as lobster and champagne, more traditional staples like produce and butter are now persistently flaunted.
In response to our newfound freedom post-COVID, brands are prioritising in-person marketing to elevate not just the image, but the experience of food itself. Having opened their first restaurant in 1998, Armani now boasts 24 global locations which serve as both dining experiences and functional exhibitions, incorporating their furnishing pieces and aesthetics into a wider ‘Armani lifestyle’. A viral Burberry campaign saw celebrities simply brewing tea to their liking, discreetly spotlighting their clothes amid praise for returning to their British heritage. This success was reprised through a recent ‘London in Love’ interview collection, with Aimee Lou Wood’s feature exceeding 10 million TikTok views. Subtly shifting immersive focus to food allows brands to convey a relatable outlook while retaining airs of class and unattainability.
Given the Ozempic craze of the last few years, it is worth noting that there are very few instances in nutrition-oriented fashion of food actually being consumed. It is an accessory, complementing an ultra-thin body rather than daring to ruin it by calorie intake. Fresh and organic groceries are symbolic of affordable affluence, and thus class and weight intermingle in the cloud of consumer guilt surrounding this trend.
Food as a signifier of wealth is by no means novel. The Victorian practice of renting pineapples for display purposes is one in a long line of status symbols, but at least each fruit saw multiple uses (the initial £11,000 price point in today’s currency may justify this). In January 2024, Kim Kardashian used out-of-season grapes as a dinner party table decoration, displaying her ability to afford ‘luxury’ fruit without associating the purchase with ingestion. In an even grander arrangement this year, Kris Jenner shared clips of the family’s Easter spread, embellishing the tablescape with hundreds of fresh vegetables as vases and candleholders.
At a time where environmental impact is the subject of intense scrutiny, these installations promoting the wastage of food beyond its aesthetic worth highlight the contradictions of a culture romanticising abundance as millions struggle to afford food for its face value purpose: a basic survival necessity.
