In 2025, Margot Tenenbaum Is My Style Icon

Underconsumption core, and the concept of who's trashy

Photograph by Sarah Strand

When I was in eighth grade, I had a pair of jeans, pair of sneakers, and a zip up hoodie I really liked. The hoodie was probably the most important—a jolly rancher blue Juicy Couture that I had begged my mother for.

I wore this combo a lot—multiple times a week, if memory serves correctly. It was the definition of clothes you live in. One day at school, a friendquaintance (those people you know, who you say hi to, are friendly with, and maybe orbit around but are never real friends with) point blank asked: Do you ever wash your clothes?

This whole setup/memory is quite faded, but the feeling still burns to this day. It was embarrassment. Shame. That she was assuming that I was dirty. (When, in fact, my mother has some of the most rigorous cleaning standards I know, and has passed onto me, which ironically are now why my friend think I'm so strange.) That I was poor. That I didn't know how to style myself. The last is probably one of my biggest insecurities now, especially working in beauty and fashion adjacent fields, where the image is a high prize.

A big, fat seed of insecurity was planted, and for the next several years—really, until I got out of uni—I took pride in wearing something different every day. My closet was a mess, no cohesion to speak of. Once, I  believe the following words came out of my mouth: I want to look like a unicorn threw up. 

But as I’ve gotten older and am, I guess, approaching 30 (???!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! Idk, my friends have started crossing over and they are slaying), I’ve really wanted to dial in my own style. Capsule wardrobe it, if you will. But every time I catch myself wearing the same turtleneck five days in a row because I'm obsessed (it’s this turtleneck btw, and I bought it in two colors), or accidentally wearing the same thing to see the same friend eight weeks apart (it’s still that turtleneck lol), that alarm bell goes off, and I hear her voice. Do you ever wash your clothes? 

The answer is yes, but that’s not the point. The point is that it’s all about framing.

Last summer, underconsumption-core was the talk of TikTok. Basically, videos were going viral as people showed off just how *little* they consumed. That engendered many questions: What is “normal” consumption? Can we define “underconsumption”? It also sparked a mild class war in the comment, with the refrain, classy if you’re rich, trashy if you’re poor. Those who lack the means inherently cannot participate in overconsumption. They repurpose by necessity, not by choice. Somehow, this small distinction speaks volumes.

For instance: It’s chic and cool that Steve Jobs had one singular black turtleneck. (Granted, he probably had 20 of the same style in his closet.) It’s lame that your elementary school classmate shows up in the same t-shirt every day because they are in temporary housing.

The Balenciaga sneakers and Golden Goose tennis shoes that look like someone pulled them out of a trash can are “high fashion”, but a new, off-brand pair from a discount store is not.  

It’s also worth noting that in this flurry of overconsumption, there is, for better or worse (personally, I think worse?), a dearth of real personal style as we all clamor for the latest TikTok trend, which is honestly and inevitably going to evaporate in three weeks—if you’re lucky to get that long.

So, enter Margot Tenenbaum.

If you have talked to me for any length of time, it’s highly likely you know that I am obsessed with Wes Anderson movies. A couple years ago, still fresh in my Wes Anderson journey, I watched The Royal Tenenbaums, starring none other than Gwyneth Paltrow as Margot, adopted member of the eponymous family and my favorite character after Richie (only because he had a Rollei35, and I LOVE the Rollei35).

I didn’t think much of it until this year, at which point I had seen the movie five times or so. I am not a TikTok gal but do spend a decent amount of time on YouTube watching very long cultural commentary videos, and the algorithm eventually served me a Wes Anderson movies costume analysis. “We see this very clearly with Margot Tenenbaum, who wears the same exact outfit she wore as a child. Margot wears a luxurious-looking, trench-style mink, dark brown loafers and a Birkin bag,” notes YouTuber Mina Le. (Accompanied by custom Lacoste tennis dresses made by the costume department.) While in the video, Le notes that Margot’s uniform shows that she’s “peaked”, Christian Allaire in Vogue puts it another way:

The most genius aspect of Margot’s style, in our eyes, is that she sticks to her signatures. The Tenenbaums are a wealthy family, but even so, Margot doesn’t dabble in excessive consumerism like she could. She rewears things, and she rewears them often. Take her signature mink coat: She sports it throughout the film, and in a flashback scene, she’s even seen wearing the same coat as a teen while telling the story of how she lost one of her fingers. (Spoiler: it was a freak wood-chopping accident.) Even her striped tennis dress makes a cameo a few times too…She’s concrete proof that a refined uniform will never go out of style.

Objectively, Margot is chic. that coat? It's a custom Fendi mink. The bag—I could say less. The tennis dress—always a classic. It alludes to the tennis club life, something which has historically been very exclusive (and still is),  and no one is asking her if she washes her clothes. (Dry cleaning the mink, excuse me.) Instead, it’s posh. She has a uniform; she sticks with it; people expect it of her. She has a “look”. Maybe—no, not maybe—she is coasting on privilege accorded to her by wealth. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t have some fun at a price point a fraction of said mink. Right?!

What Margot has curated is exactly what I want. I don't want a new outfit every day. I want a uniform. And if it’s all about framing, then I’m calling this the Margot Tenenbaum style challenge (a light ode  to the 75 hard style challenge by Mandy Lee that went viral last year). Every week, I am going to wear one thing I really love every day and challenge myself to style it in a whole new outfit for seven days straight. I’m going to do this until I run out of favorite pieces. I hope that in the end, I’ll have narrowed down the stuff I actually go to on repeat and can clean out the rest. Stomp out that voice that makes me embarrassed for wearing a certain piece too much. And, of course, become an icon. Kidding.

What I’m Reading

• Rebecca, Daphne Du Maurier

• “I’m Starting to Think You Guys Don’t Really Want a ‘Village’”, Clare Haber-Harris, Slate

• James, Percival Everett

• “We Still Suck at Talking About Celebrities’ Bodies”, Chantal Fernandez, The Cut

• Blonde, Joyce Carol Oates

• “How ‘The Golden Girls’ Celebrated—and Distorted—Old Age”, Daniel Immerwahr, The New Yorker

• Conversations With Friends, Sally Rooney

• “‘I love the whole atmosphere and can spend hours browsing’: how did bookshops suddenly become cool?”, Sarah Manavis, The Guardian

• “A Riveting, Timeless Journey Through the Afterlife: Inside the World of Dante’s Divine Comedy”, Michael Palma, Lit Hub

• “How Maria Callas Lost Her Voice”, Will Crutchfield, The New Yorker

• Normal People, Sally Rooney

• Method Writing: What Novelists Can Learn From Actors About Self-Expression

What I’m Writing

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• The 30 Best Haircuts for Gray Hair

• I’m a Photographer and Here Are My 3 Best Tips for Looking Good in Pictures (Plus 4 Rules for Avoiding Awkwardness)

• 7 Things You Should Stop Doing If You Have Oily Skin

• The 23 Best Red Lipsticks of All Time, Vetted by Editors and Makeup Artists

• Heads Up, Gen Z: TikTok's Pineapple Dating Trend Might Have an Unexpected Ulterior Meaning

• 26 Cozy Restaurants in NYC to Beat the Winter Blues

• 20 New Year’s Resolutions for Your Mental Health

• The ColorWow Carb Cocktail Is Supposed to Transform Fine, Thin Hair, So I Had to Try It