Crystal Wise
Elaine Agather
In March, Vogue — the arbiter of all things sequined, structured, and sacred to fashion folk — tipped its Stetson to the Western trend. Suddenly, ranch-hand realness was everywhere: fringe fluttered down Parisian runways, boots stomped through SoHo, and bolo ties made cameos at cocktail parties. It felt revelatory. But here’s the thing: in Fort Worth, this wasn’t new. It was Tuesday.
Long before Louis Vuitton’s models were striding across a desert-evoking catwalk, we were wearing denim with purpose, leather with patina, and fringe that knew how to move. If New York is the capital of chic, then Fort Worth is the soul of Western style. And now, after years of flying under the radar, Cowtown’s having its moment in the international spotlight — not because we chased the trend, but because the trend finally caught up to us.
We’ve been so proud of this heritage, we dedicated not one, but two issues of our magazine to it — one honoring the iconic cowboy hat, and another diving deep into the legacy of boots, arguably the most essential Western staple. And we did it all long before Vogue ever tipped its hat to Western fashion.
You could say this wildfire started with a spark — maybe Taylor Sheridan’s “Yellowstone” lit the match. Then came Beyoncé, blazing in with “Cowboy Carter,” a genre-bending love letter to Texas grit. And somewhere in between, Bella Hadid showed up in Fort Worth, slinking through the Stockyards like she belonged there. She did. The town noticed. So did the world.
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And just like that, Western fashion wasn’t kitsch anymore. It wasn’t costume. It was couture.
Walk down South Main or through the Stockyards today and you’ll see the future of Western style stitched into every storefront. Not in some ironic, meta, city-slicker way —but in an unselfconscious, born-this-way kind of cool. Here, cowboy boots aren’t curated; they’re lived in. Fringe jackets aren’t trends; they’re heirlooms.
But fashion has a funny way of romanticizing authenticity just as it’s trying to replicate it. That’s the paradox. And that’s where Fort Worth becomes essential.
When Louis Vuitton's Fall/Winter 2024 men’s show opened with boots crunching on faux desert dirt, you could feel the homage — rancher silhouettes, suede chaps, denim tuxedos—but also the yearning. The show wasn’t just about fashion; it was about a place. A state of mind. And whether they admitted it or not, that place was Fort Worth.
Across the pond, the Western wave continued: Chloé played with hybrid fringe, Isabel Marant offered studded leathers, and Molly Goddard reimagined snap shirts as high fashion essentials. Meanwhile, on the sidewalks, fashion’s “cool girls” — Emily Ratajkowski chief among them — adopted the boot as a new kind of statement heel. Pair it with a slip dress, pair it with nothing. Just know it’s a vibe.
And what of Fort Worth in all this? We’re not chasing headlines. We’re too busy hosting rodeos, outfitting honky-tonk dance floors, and casually raising the next generation of rodeo royalty. Our fashion houses might not have Paris addresses, but they’ve got soul, swagger, and a long, dusty runway called memory.
So sure, Vogue can call it a trend. But around here, we just call it getting dressed.
Welcome to Fort Worth. Where the West begins — and where fashion just caught up.
