To Hell with ‘Quiet Luxury,’ This Fall I’m All About ‘Loud Garbage’

“What's even in there, huh? Flat shoes for the subway? Her lunch pail? I mean, Greg, it's monstrous. It's gargantuan…” It was a “ludicrously capacious bag,” according to Tom Wambsgans fromSuccession, whose speech about Cousin Greg’s “gauche” date, Bridget, and her “giant” bagquickly went viral, not only because its ridiculous analogies were instantly quotable (“You could slide it across the floor after a bank job”), but also because it functioned as a maxim of the hit HBO series.

As delineated masterfully byThe Cut’s Danya Issawi, this rant captured the class idiosyncrasies that madeSuccessionso engrossing (and equally so cringeworthy). A Roy would rather be caught dead than carrying an easily spottable Burberry bag. Why? Because that doesn’t fit with the“quiet luxury”(or as Issawi calls it: “stealth wealth”) that defined their closets—the expensive, well-tailored and logo-less pieces that have sincepopped upeverywhere.

But what about those of us who aren’t striving to display quiet luxury (and don’t have the means to do so anyway)? This fall, I’m saying to hell with quiet luxury and embracing what I like to call “loud garbage.”

No, “loud garbage” wasn’t ever introduced onSuccession,我甚至不会说,布丽姬特的巴宝莉bag counts. For me, loud garbage is a challenge to what quiet luxury represents. It’s the idea that affordable and flashy clothing is worthy of being displayed.

Of course, this doesn’t mean that the clothingactuallyneeds to be cheaply made. I mean, I’m always gunning forsustainably- andethically-produced apparel. Rather, loud garbage can be defined as something people like the Roys would consider “far too much.” I imagine the shock and horror if you showed up to aSuccession-style summer barbecue injellie sandalsor (gasp!) a thrifted nap dress.

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to own well-made investment items. The real problem with quiet luxury is that it perpetuates the idea that *true* lovers of fashion are an elite circle who can recognize dollar signs like they’re woven into the fabric on your body.

This trend has never fit my style anyways. When I dress, I want to standout(that’s theLeoin me). There’s nothing “quiet” about my personal style, and while I don’t mind occasionally wearing neutral tones and understated glamourà la Shiv Roy, I can’t deny my love for bright colors, unusual silhouettes and loud patterns.

Getting recognized for owning something expensive has never been the validation that I’ve desired, even though there are certainly expensive items that I wish I could afford (like, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if someone surprised me with a pair ofLouboutin spiked loafers). Instead, I’m proud of getting noticed for something that I thrifted for fifteen bucks. I love sharing that my sweater was a hand-me-down from my grandfather, or my shoes used to belong to my mom. I have always—and will always—firmly believed that a love for fashion shouldn’t be defined by how much you spend.

Those of us with our eyes locked on sartorial trends have already started to notice a resistance to the tenets of quiet luxury. Just look at the rise inBarbiecoreor theobsession with early aughts fashion(which challenges the ’80s as one of the loudest eras in fashion ever). Fashionistas arehitting the theaters in hot pinkand rocking rhinestone-studded pants andbeaded chokers on the regular. Clearly, quiet luxury isn’t for everyone.

So this fall, I won’t be afraid to rock a pair of neon parachute pants or sparkly, glittering boots that allow me to tower over my friends. I won’t be afraid to layer a metallic skirt over a fuzzy cropped sweater.

That’s not to say that you won’t find me embracing a quiet luxury look every once in a while. However, I’ll just as proudly be flaunting outfits that the Roys might call ludicrous, bags they would deem too capacious and a thrifted find which they wouldnevercall luxurious. They might call it garbage, but their trash is my treasure.

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