Gen Z and the Prep revival

Gen Z’s aversion to “cringe” is a storied theme of our time as this generational cohort reaches their late 20s, with the big 30 staring at them in the face while they desperately argue with millennials about who looks better, and who is “cooler”. While I personally find those debates trivial, they clearly drive engagement on platforms obsessed with generational performance.

Regardless, no-one over the age of 35 should be chasing what’s cool. So yes, dear fellow millennial, I expect you to defer to your younger siblings on that subject in particular. It is interesting, however, that Gen Z’s aversion to cringe manifests in an embrace of aesthetic restraint. As we witness a prep revival in fashion, something tells me this isn’t just nostalgia. Rather, it mirrors a deeper desire for order, identity, and conservatism in an unstable world.

That’s reflected in the politics of the day. Whereas five years ago, before the intergenerational wars became so pronounced, one would have thought that the world was marching steadily to the beat of progressive politics. The freewheeling, live-and-let-live nature of millennials, which brought us Barack Obama, for example, has been replaced by rampant, global xenophobia; the relentless manosphere; Donald Trump in office (again), and the shunning of previously popular, left-leaning politicians like New Zealand’s former prime minister Jacinda Arden. 

The latter, who for a while stood as a shining example of progressive leadership on a global scale, is now essentially persona non grata in her country, whose current prime minister is an “anti-woke”, hard-right populist. 

What does this have to do with Gen Z and the prep revival?

Gen Z has grown up in a world that is increasingly polarised and one that lacks stability, whether you think of this economically, socially, geopolitically and otherwise. It is not rocket science that they would seek to find safety in identity (as reflected by the manosphere and xenophobia) and therefore want to vote for “strong men”. But this also means their fashion choices also reflect a yearning for something safe — enter prep, old money aesthetics and “quiet luxury”, or however you want to describe the once-dismissed fad that now feels increasingly entrenched. 

While quiet luxury was seen by many as a passing fad, one fuelled by shows like HBO’s Succession, it has demonstrated resilience and trends continue to evolve away from overstyling, in favour of aesthetic minimalism. In case you think that’s yesteryear, you’ve probably not recently browsed through the rails at any of our large fashion retailers where cardigans, polo shirts and plaid blazers, for men, are the norm, and sports jerseys (like the recently hyped Kaizer Chiefs one) are in style — a modern echo to the 50s (at least in the Western world), when wearing rugby jerseys off the field first became a fashion statement. 

On the bright side, today’s prep revival seems to manifest slightly differently in the African diaspora, and SA specifically. In the US and other Western countries it seems tied to a resurgent conservatism, steeped in whiteness, elitism and traditional gender coding. Yet designers like Wanda Lephoto have become synonymous with injecting a fresh perspective, and a streetwear-orientated approach to prep (someone like Martine Rose would also be a case in point). 

Such designers are not just reinterpreting prep — they are interrogating its colonial legacy. In his recent Fashion Accounts exhibition, which also featured Thebe Magugu and Sindiso Khumalo, and was a collaboration with Erica de Greef and Alison Moloney, Lephoto was quoted by Bubblegum Club as saying: “The image collection and archive are classified through categories that carry a colonial trace with titles such as European Influence, Domestic Servants, Dress: Zulu, Dress: Women, Weddings, Churches and more.”

Prep, therefore, becomes not only a return to tradition, but a critical tool to reclaim and reframe inherited identities. Some of the themes Lephoto outlines evoke a history of uniquely South African conservatism. They reflect that “the impact of colonisation continues to live in black homes and black identities”, as he said to Bubblegum Club. In my view, the Met Gala’s recent celebration of Black dandyism reflects this on a global scale. Much of the black fashion we’re tapping into as “heritage”, is steeped in colonial aesthetics, the politics and infiltration of Christianity as the dominant religion in African communities. 

For a new generation, embracing these colonial-inspired silhouettes; viewed in tandem with political and social shifts we’re currently living through, this may be more than just a signal of good taste and generational preferences. It might reveal deep cultural longings for safety, identity, and control in a chaotic, fragmented world. And while it manifests differently for different communities across the globe, the question is whether this prep revival is merely skin-deep — or the early signs of a deeper ideological shift across the board.