Why Greta Gerwig’s Little Women is the surprising blueprint for 2020 dressing

Although Greta Gerwig’s Little Women may have gone home empty handed from Sunday’s Golden Globes, the movie was a winner in the eyes of pretty much everyone else who doesn’t happen to be a member of the Hollywood Foreign Press Association. But if you were a little tired of the premise of a gaggle of pretty white girls doing good and engaging in petty quarrels with each other, even the most cynical among us can admit that the costumes were exquisite. And although they were designed for characters living during the American Civil War, somehow through their specificity and originality they seem like they could be perfectly at home in a 2020 wardrobe too. 

Since Little Women’s 25 December release, much has been written about the film’s period dress, designed by veteran costume designer Jacqueline Durran (whose numerous achievements include designing the fluid emerald dress worn by Keira Knightley in Atonement). The past few weeks have seen a flurry of ‘Get the Look’ style columns and interviews with Durran, celebrating her thoughtful approach to creating distinct and colour-coded looks for each of Louisa May Alcott’s beloved March sisters. But beyond a superficial appreciation for the beauty of Meg’s pastel ball dresses, or Laurie’s billowing white shirts and Jo’s boyish but fancy brocade waistcoats, just why is it that Durran’s costumes have captured our hearts to such an extent, particularly as we lumber into 2020, concerned and maybe just a little scared about what the new decade may hold?

Back in December, Louis Vuitton’s artistic director of menswear Virgil Abloh spoke about how streetwear is “gonna die” in the new decade. “It’s time will be up,” he told Dazed. “In my mind, how many more t-shirts can we own, how many more hoodies, how many sneakers? I think that like we’re gonna hit this like, really awesome state of expressing your knowledge and personal style with vintage—there are so many clothes that are cool that are in vintage shops and it’s just about wearing them.” After a decade in fashion that could be best summed up by the disturbing trend to buy new outfits just for the sake of sharing on social media, the fact that one of contemporary fashion’s most influential tastemakers—and purveyor of streetwear itself—denounced the trend for newness provides a compelling foundation in terms of why a period drama like Little Women might suddenly offer a very viable way to dress. 

The reasons for this are manifold. Stemming from Abloh’s belief that streetwear is on the way out, perhaps there is a growing desire to dress more purposefully and put together again. And maybe for want of a better term, with more flounce, but without the fuss? After all, one of 2019’s biggest trends was the Big Black Dress: a now ubiquitous dress shape (arguably modelled on Molly Goddard’s layered confections) comprised of short, girly sleeves, rounded collars and tiers cast in a stiff often shiny material. But these types of dresses were not purely and blandly feminine—instead they were the fashion equivalent to the Big Witch Energy that was a whole mood for the latter part of 2019. There is something plainly functional and easy-to-wear about these big dresses that is  appealing—in many ways, who can deny, that a free flowing dress is actually a whole lot easier to wear than tight skinny jeans? 

The types of dresses seen in Gerwig’s Little Women assume greater significance when understood in relation to the modesty dressing trend. Since 2018, high necks, long sleeves and prairie-type dresses have been springing up on catwalks and in high street stores alike, with brands like Batsheva and The Vampire’s Wife, known for vintage florals and ruffles, and austere, Victorian-style silhouettes respectively, booming (not to mention the trend for big, puffy sleeves at Sunday’s Golden Globes). Here, Durran’s dresses find context; they make sense in terms of contemporary fashion. They are not tired throwbacks to a gone by era, but modern wardrobe fodder. 

“I think that fashion is gonna go away from buying a boxfresh something; it’ll be like, hey I’m gonna go into my archive,” said Abloh. As we move into 2020, the devastating consequences of climate change taking hold in violent, gripping flames in Australia, how can we really justify the purchase of any more new things? If we do one thing for 2020, it could be to buy less, to dig into those ‘archives’ as Alboh suggests, and if we do require something, to explore the infinite options of vintage shopping. And what wonders we might then uncover—what actual vintage blouses and textured waistcoats, a myriad of Jo-style blazers and twee scarves and cosy knits might emerge in the hunt? A whole lot more than in H&M and Zara that is for sure. 

But Little Women also asks us to have more fun with our clothes: to borrow, and swap and share, and meddle with gender constructs. In the film, the dynamic duo of Jo and Laurie share a waistcoat and mirror each other’s wardrobes with roomy, creamy shirts, slate grey skirts and slacks, and jaunty neckerchiefs. And surely what could be more modern than that, to be sustainable, economic and just a tiny bit subversive?