In 2023, a seller from Karachi spray-painted an ordinary chicken to look like an exotic bird. He listed it online as a "rare parrot with unique wings and tail" for 23 dollars. People laughed, the internet exploded, and the whole thing became a harmless joke. But lately, that story keeps returning to me for a different reason.
The more I observe fashion trends today, the more I realise how often we fall for similar illusions. You can change colours, outfits, silhouettes, even aesthetics, but you cannot spray-paint your way into another identity. And that is exactly what is happening with the rise of items marketed as "old money". The label is slapped onto anything beige, simple, or neutral, as if the right colour palette could claim a heritage it does not have.
Old money is not a style category. It is a way of living shaped by generational comfort, inherited privilege, and a world where confidence does not need decoration. That is why the modern "old money look" feels so hollow. It is a trend imitating a life it does not understand.
To begin with, old money means inherited wealth. Period. In Bangla, we call it "bonedi poribar," families who have lived through generations of prosperity, privilege, and quiet power. And people born into that world have nothing to prove. Their simplicity is their elegance, because confidence comes naturally when you have seen it all.
However, social media has twisted this into a formula. Wear beige trousers, a tucked-in polo, maybe throw on loafers, and suddenly you are "old money." The irony is that we are not buying style, we are buying a performance — a borrowed feeling dressed up as an outfit.
The distortions run deeper. Take pants, for example. A well-cut regular fit has always been timeless. But after a decade of skin-tight trousers, influencers are now swinging to the opposite extreme, promoting flared and wide-legged pants and calling them "old money." That is not heritage, that is just trend-hopping.
This obsession shows up everywhere. On one side, college students chase shirts with oversized Gucci logos as if the logo itself could become their identity. On the other hand, a mature gentleman strolls in a classic khadi panjabi stitched by his neighbourhood tailor. One is acting the part. The other is simply living his truth. And only one of them will look timeless ten years from now.
And that is the core issue; trends are being force-fed. Influencers keep telling you, "Buy this, and you will look good." However, they rarely understand what they are recommending. They distort tailoring, they distort fit, and they distort meaning. Old money is not about beige pants and white shirts. It is about freedom from needing validation.
So, here is my takeaway as your Sartorial Strategist:
Do not chase aesthetics; find your style: A style you can carry for decades will always outlast a hashtag.
Focus on quality, not quantity: A regular-fit pant with proper tailoring will serve you far better than a dozen trendy pairs.
Wear it like it is yours: Clothes look confident only when they fit naturally into your life.
In the end, old money is not stitched into your shirt; it is stitched into history. For the rest of us, style begins and ends with authenticity. And authenticity, paired with quality, never goes out of fashion.
