How 20 Years of Global Events Influenced Fashion

In the past two decades, economic collapse, cultural reckoning and global crisis have reshaped not only the world, but the wardrobe. As STITCH marks its 20th anniversary, it’s worth examining not simply what we wore, but why. 

2008 - The Great Recession 

By the mid-2000s, the housing boom was in full swing and fashion mirrored the optimism. Rhinestones flashed under nightclub lights. Logos stretched boldly across handbags and T-shirts. Low-rise denim and ruffled miniskirts dominated. 

“It was colorful, it was sexy, it was obvious,” recalled Ron Frasch, former president and chief merchandising officer of Saks Fifth Avenue. 

As the Great Recession unfurled in late 2007, maximalism went alongside it. Millions lost their jobs, and spending tightened as retailers slashed prices to stay afloat. It had suddenly become uncool, and rather tone-deaf, to look rich.

Minimalism rose accordingly. 

As excess began to feel irresponsible, even the wealthiest shoppers recalibrated. Resistance to visible branding grew as subtle designs gained favor. Flashy, logo-mania styles receded. Hemlines lengthened to emulate a more conservative, serious look. Color drained from wardrobes, replaced by neutral palettes of ivory, navy, camel and black, decorating the now-ever-so-popular “cheap-looking fashion” of leggings and worn, V-neck t-shirts. 

Phoebe Philo’s tenure at CELINE became emblematic of the moment: precise tailoring, controlled silhouettes and understated luxury without spectacle. The shift trickled down. Startups like Everlane built brands around elevated basics — navy sweaters, crisp tees, slim ankle pants. Cuyana urged consumers to buy “fewer, better things,” framing simplicity as virtue. By 2014, deliberate plainness had crystallized into the it-girl aesthetic. 

2017 - The #MeToo Movement

By 2017, instability was no longer economic. It was cultural. The #MeToo movement exposed the pervasiveness of sexual abuse and harassment, forcing conversations about power, visibility and accountability into every industry. 

At the 2018 Golden Globes, the once spectacle-filled red carpet turned almost entirely black. Actresses arrived in coordinated solidarity for Time’s Up, using couture as a declaration and redirecting interviews toward systemic inequity. The industry’s most visible stage had become a vehicle for collective accountability rather than frivolous individual glamour. 

As the cultural temperature shifted, so did design. Trends favored structure over seduction, working toward empowered representations of women over overt sexualization. Necklines climbed, as midi and ankle-length skirts replaced the thigh-grazing minis of the early 2000s. Women chose tailoring over tulle at award shows and premieres. Pantsuits appeared on red carpets with increasing frequency, marking a decisive step away from the centering of femininity around the male gaze.

At Dior’s Autumn/Winter 2020 show, the word “Consent” flashed in neon above the catwalk in traffic-light red, yellow, and green — a collaboration between Maria Grazia Chiuri and feminist collective Claire Fontaine staged just one day after Harvey Weinstein’s conviction. Beneath the installation, the house’s signature bar jacket was reimagined with ribbed structure and paired with men’s shirting and a tie, reframing a heritage silhouette through a lens of authority rather than allure. #MeToo marked a structural shift, altering not just what was worn, but what it signified.

2020 - The Global Pandemic

In March 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic shut down the world. Offices emptied. Runways went dark. Bedrooms became boardrooms, gyms and cocktail bars. Fashion, for the first time in decades, had nowhere to go. 

Attire recalibrated to reflect newfound reality. Loungewear became less of a subcategory and more of an unofficial uniform. Sweatpant sales rose by nearly 80% in the United States alone, with matching knit sets, elastic-waist joggers, ribbed tanks and oversized hoodies replacing structured denim and fitted blazers. 

Activewear followed closely behind. With gyms shuttered and fitness classes migrating online, brands like Athleta, Alo Yoga and Lululemon saw sustained demand. Footwear flattened accordingly, as furry slippers, knit slides, cushioned mules and sport sandals replaced stilettos. Comfort was no longer indulgent; it was rational.

But beyond shifting silhouettes, the pandemic reignited fashion’s emotional function.

STITCH captured this in real-time in its At-Home Issue, most notably in “Covid Closet” by Olivia Evans. As extended spring break turned into a cancelled quarter, Evans wrote of turning to her mother’s closet, rediscovering thrifted blazers, satin skirts and vintage clip-on earrings once stored in a retro caboodle. 

Freed from the expectation of being seen, Evans assembled a small, self-styled lookbook from her mother’s pieces, combining them with items from her own wardrobe. A purple shoelace became a belt. A swimsuit cover-up was repurposed as a tube top. A Marilyn Monroe lingerie dress was tucked into a denim skirt. 

With no audience but herself, fashion returned to its core: memory and self-expression.