'90s Goths Made Me Who I am

It's too hot and I just want to wear mohair and hunt vampires.

It’s funny how often I look to the 1990s media for comfort (considering I was an actual child for my entire experience of the decade), but when it comes to style, the most compelling stuff from that decade wasn’t the normcore or the minimalism (that stuff still bangs though obvs). It was the moody, supernatural, slightly tortured gothic energy pulsing through the era’s pop culture that left an indelible mark on me and my style.

Shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Twin Peaks didn’t just tap into teen angst or small-town dread, something I relate to despite my small town being a distinctly English and countryside one — they also nailed a kind of aesthetic conviction that still feels fresh today. Dark trench coats, beaten-up boots, longline silhouettes, and tailored jackets worn with some existential weight on the shoulders. The fashion wasn't just part of the plot — it helped tell the story. It created atmosphere. It looked… moody.

There’s something deeply appealing about the drama of it all. In a sea of fast fashion dopamine dressing and carefully curated casualwear, revisiting this era — where a black turtleneck could signify inner torment/that you were an evil twin and a leather coat meant you might know how to use a stake — feels surprisingly modern. Because even though the gothic lean is a little camp, a little costume-y, it also cuts through the noise.

Spike’s all-black-everything and peroxide blond hair (icon). Angel’s oversized wool coats with boxy shoulders. The way Giles dressed like a quietly stylish academic (because he was), or how even the throwaway high school extras in Buffy looked like they’d walked off a Helmut Lang lookbook if you squinted hard enough. The X-Files (side-note, I just got a very sick X-Files tee), where Mulder and Scully’s wardrobes were 90% mood and 10% mystery-hunting practicality — charcoal tailoring was basically its own character.

What made it work wasn’t just the clothes. It was the attitude. The commitment to tone. And now, in a moment where fashion has circled back a bit of theatrical melancholy (see: Kiko, Bottega, my fave Our Legacy’s darker moments), it tracks that 90s gothic would be in the air again.

You can see its influence all over today’s menswear. Buttery leather trenches making a slow, confident return. Structured tailoring that reads more secret-society than startup founder. In slimmer black jeans (I’m a long way from being convinced by this FYI), pointy boots, the occasional silver pendant. The good kind of drama. Well-lit drama. Melodrama.

Our Legacy SS26 proving grunge goth is still cool as hell

And you don’t need to go full vampire cosplay to make it work. The key is restraint: pick one or two pieces with presence — a dark overcoat, a textured knit, a shoe with edge — and ground the rest. Stick to washed blacks, stormy greys, deep oxbloods or a bright pop of red (y’know, vampire shit). Make your fabrics matter: brushed wool, mohair, suede, matte leather. Think a bit more I’m brooding and need to look great while doing it, less ironic Halloween.

I’m also obsessing over quiet confidence of this vibe. It’s not chasing trends — it’s dressing like you’ve got a spooky secret, and you’re not in a rush to share it. Which, honestly, is half the point of style anyway.

Consider this a formal invitation to rewatch Buffy as I have been doing — not just for the nostalgia or the surprisingly sharp dialogue, but for the sick fits. And if you walk away with the sudden urge to wear more black and listen to a bit more Bauhaus, welcome to the party pal, we’re all brooding in corners and none of us are dancing.

T.

Aforementioned X-Files tee, in a lift on a hot day with my dog.