Cosa è diventato lo streetwear nel 2025?

If we had to think of the first association our brain makes when hearing the word "streetwear", it would probably be a hoodie and a pair of sneakers. The association wouldn’t be wrong – but during the streetwear boom a decade ago, the nature of what this term represents undoubtedly became more nuanced. Speaking about the birth of Stussy on Complex back in 2012, one of the brand’s historic designers, Nick Bowler, said: «If you think about other youth cultures: you've got surf, skate, snow, and if you talk about streetwear… it's kind of like what you wear in the street, when you're not doing your sport». In the same article, over a decade ago, DJ Jules Gayton noted that the word had taken on a «negative connotation» because of the way certain «corny brands» had appropriated it. At the time, by the way, Off-White hadn’t even been founded yet but was on the verge of coming to life. When Virgil Abloh emerged as a giant in the decade’s fashion culture, the idea of what streetwear was began taking shape without being fully defined. Speaking once to Elle, Virgil himself said that streetwear was born as «a kind of mentality»: in the ’90s, it began with skaters customizing T-shirts with their crew’s name, which later evolved into «proper streetwear» brands like Supreme and Alife and creatives like Futura. This gave way to a «post-streetwear movement» – a genuine mentality that overturned fashion hierarchies, allowing what was traditionally at the bottom to rise to the top: «Trends are trickling from the street up. Luxury no longer holds the same grip on consumers». In general, Abloh’s profound insight, which was often misunderstood or misinterpreted, was that fashion’s future wouldn’t revolve around fragile, precious, intellectually pretentious, or overly formal garments, but around clothes that, in some ways, weren’t worn with care or pretense – everyday clothes meant to be worn on the street. 

Abloh’s insight proved prophetic: we are, after all, in a world where billionaires and millionaires have swapped their double-breasted suits for graphic-covered T-shirts, gold chains, and goofy hairstyles – ultra-fortysomethings with bank accounts rivaling the GDP of small nations, as allergic to tailored suits as any small-time dealer might be. But four years after his premature death and six years after the famous interview in which he predicted that streetwear would soon die (as it did, remember how we emerged from lockdown first in pajamas and then obsessed with quiet luxury?), the fashion audience is still grappling with the nebulous entity that is streetwear: fashion brands produce and sell cult sneakers (Prada with its Collapse, Miu Miu with its collaboration with New Balance), while Puma Speedcats are the new cult shoe for a generation, and brands like Loewe or Balenciaga sell logoed hoodies in droves. Even Pharrell at Louis Vuitton has embraced Abloh’s readymade philosophy and overall vibe, creating luxury streetwear that isn’t just about hoodies and sneakers but, as previously mentioned, elevated versions of already popular designs like the Carhartt WIP Detroit jacket – what Adrian Bianco of Sabukaru defines as «some sort of streetwear».

The situation is one of ambiguity. In the past, for example, for the content creator Mark Boutillier, «it was more important for the graphic t-shirt to match the sneakers than anything else. Now, in 2025, the boundaries are much more blurred. It seems that many high-fashion brands want to be streetwear brands, and that streetwear brands want to be high-fashion brands». And if today, according to Mr. Bianco, the word streetwear «has transcended its original meaning», becoming «a legacy and a business», the co-founder of the Danish brand Les Deux, Matias H. Jensen, has a more philosophical view: «Streetwear is and always has been wearable culture, something that goes further than just a trend and becomes a way of expressing yourself. There’s been a lot of change in the genre in the last decade, but at its heart I still believe that it’s a way of telling people who you are without opening your mouth. Today, I think it defines anything that draws on some kind of counterculture roots and falls into that category, from nylon brocore jerseys to skater denim to functional gorpcore. In a nutshell, streetwear is authenticity to me». For Odunayo Ojo, an independent journalist from London better known in circles as Fashion Roadman and founder of The Fashion Archive, «Virgil Abloh is probably one of the few designers that truly understood the true essence of what streetwear is supposed to be and it’s why he built such a strong community around the clothes».

Among the insiders we interviewed to collectively try to define a semantics of streetwear today, a triple association of concepts emerged: functionality, authenticity, wearability. «Growing up, I thought of streetwear as clothing associated with a community or subculture», says Odunayo Ojo. «Nowadays, I associate streetwear with product categories that include easy-to-make garments like sweatshirts, sweatpants, hoodies and other clothing we typically associate with workwear». Clothing that, beyond their “ease,” also lacks the formality that today we strangely associate with the working-class office drones, the increasingly unwelcoming world of politics and bureaucrats, which fashion has reappropriated with the officecore aesthetic, charging these signifiers of mediocrity with unexpected sensuality. At any rate, the very issue of ease brings us to a fourth “founding” concept of the definition of streetwear that emerged in our conversations with Bruno Casanovas, co-founder of the modern brand Nude Project, namely democracy. «For me, streetwear means “for the people,” that is, for the community», Salinas told us. «I would say that streetwear is a reinterpretation of Haute Couture brought to the streets and into everyday life. Streetwear, for me, means being able to convey a message that represents you every day, in this case through fashion. In 2025, this style is no longer just a subculture or a passing trend, but it has become a constantly evolving global phenomenon. Today it’s not just about comfortable and casual clothing, but a style that manages to combine exclusivity and authenticity at the same time».

Of course, this picture is positive in theory but less so in practice. It is no coincidence that as early as 2019, there was talk of a “streetwear bubble” referring to the fact that the business of streetwear, having entered the commercial lexicon of luxury fashion, exceeded in volume, margins, and profits the fundamental intrinsic value of the products themselves, creating a growing dissonance in the eyes of the fashion audience that translated into impatience with this style, which in turn bounced back towards quiet luxury, which was nothing more than consumers’ need for a return to the material value of products, a return to substance. «I think the main reason a lot of brands have adopted “streetwear” as an aesthetic is because the clothes are easy to make and the profit margins insanely high because not much product development goes into making things like a plain hoodie and you and they can charge $850 for a plain cotton hoodie. Brands like Balenciaga, Dior and Valentino have also shown that sneakers and boots will sell more than any other product category of shoes for luxury brands because everyone can wear them. Not everyone can wear heels or loafers but everyone can wear sneakers». For Casanovas, too, the luxury-fication of streetwear was never meant to last: «No matter how much it leans toward luxury or how many new collaborations pop up: if a brand doesn’t connect with people in a real way, it loses its essence. Streetwear today is constantly evolving. Luxury is diving into sportswear to reach a wider audience, while streetwear brands collaborate with icons to consolidate their place in niche markets. But at the heart of streetwear, there has always been connection, belonging, and substance. It’s not about logos or absurd price tags».

And perhaps it is for this reason that today the streetwear category seems to have moved beyond the boundaries of subculture and expanded its semantic scope, also encompassing a more "classic" style that is difficult to define precisely. Take for example Aimé Leon Dore, perhaps not a very current example but still valid, and the revolution that Teddy Santis brought to everyday layering by mixing the classic coat with tracksuits, the blazer with a baseball cap, the ribbed wool sweater with basketball sneakers. But there are many examples—all of which share a certain level of aspirationality symbolized by “classic” elements that descend to the metaphorical level of the streets: it’s not bourgeois streetwear but simply a mature one. The obsession with tracksuits and sneakers, after the moment of cultural disruption, was no longer aspirational because only a lifestyle can be aspirational — the connection with the audience, once the novelty of hype culture wore off, had to move through the dream or the manifestation of a life that, while retaining its original sense of ease and freedom, was also less trivially everyday. It was at that moment that the sneaker was replaced by the simple-but-chic loafer. «Streetwear brands have become more than just businesses that happen to make clothes», Mathias H. Jensen tells us. «People want stories, values, belonging, and self-expression. They’re no longer buying just a hoodie—they’re buying into a lifestyle. The industry has shifted and gone from a fashion choice to a lifestyle choice» he continues, «which means I think the soul of streetwear can be found in whichever brands you as an individual relate to. Whether that’s a luxury brand, one of the pioneers, or a more accessible brand, you believe in the brands that you connect with. [...] The beauty of the genre is that its history of non-conformity discourages categorization into luxury or non-luxury to a certain extent. It depends on which side you resonate with. It’s all things to all people».

For Casanovas, «brands must offer more than just clothing items; they need to communicate a clear message and values that resonate with people. Streetwear has become a platform to tell stories from multiple perspectives». And this notion of streetwear as a platform underpins, on one hand, a large number of other initiatives that today, in commercial and editorial jargon, is simply called “sportswear,” or specialized clothing for disciplines with a community dimension; on the other hand, brands that build enormous communities not starting from an athletic discipline or hobby but from a transversal sense of belonging, such as the modern case of Corteiz, a hugely popular brand that has managed to remain in its own niche of the market and audience. «The concept of a "performance streetwear running club," at least as I see it, is a kind of return to community», Adrian Bianco told us. «It’s something we already saw years ago with realities like the Patta Running Crew or, even today, with AFE in Tokyo or Gyakusou back in its time. People tend to think it’s something new, but in reality, it’s more like "again, but with a different perspective." Major brands, however, need to relearn how to invest in communities. And here we come back to the example of running clubs: Nike, which used to dominate the running and sneaker market, shifted everything to direct-to-consumer, forgetting about communities and stopping the distribution of shoes to local shops. This allowed smaller running brands to insert themselves into those communities, creating a more direct connection and thus winning the game. Smaller, more agile brands move quickly, while larger ones are like dinosaurs, slow to react. But, once again, it’s all cyclical». For Boutillier, on the other hand, «the streetwear brands dominating or emerging are those conquering the Internet. There are brands selling millions of dollars of merchandise through TikTok and are hardly talked about. Fugazi was born on social media and now has a store on the corner of Orchard and Canal in New York».

The final evaluations on the state of streetwear today are mixed. On one hand, we have brand founders and creative directors like Jansen or Casanovas who, each in their own brand’s domain, have managed to find a center and a community. In Jansen’s case with Les Deux, for instance, it’s «the power of sports to unite people» that appears in their collections, campaigns, and even in their headquarters where «we even built a basketball court. It’s something that we really relate to, and our community does too». For Casanovas, however, «streetwear is now present in almost every creative discipline: from music to digital art and cinema. And this is something that inspires every collection we create at Nude Project». More skeptical about streetwear is Ojo, who, seeing on one hand the proliferation of a new scene with its various strands and on the other the success of luxury logoed streetwear, considers himself «quite confused about what streetwear actually represents in 2025. Streetwear has become less about community and subculture and almost entirely about commerce. I don’t think streetwear is associated with accessibility anymore». Boutillier also believes that «streetwear is in a bit of a weird place at the moment. The market is extremely saturated, references are regurgitated constantly, and the speed at which brands churn out new products and collaborations has a very transactional feel». Meanwhile, Adrian Bianco maintains a position of optimistic skepticism: «We are still at the same point just with more possibilities. There’s nothing too exciting right now, but everybody is still out there right now. Years ago, young brands mainly made T-shirts; today, kids can launch sneaker brands or even leather jackets. The only real limitations are the money you have or can put together to start. I believe the most important thing is to have talented people within the brands, people capable of maintaining a balance between the business and cultural dimensions. You have to work hard, think freely, be a little "stupid," but know how to balance culture and the commercial side. Only then can you build something great».