Fringe has been around for millennia, first invented by twisting threads as a way to prevent unhemmed fabric from unraveling or fraying. You can find visual evidence of fringe in human art forms throughout ancient civilizations. In some cultures, it was used for practical purposes; in others, it was proof of the wearer’s social status as intricately fringed clothing, which was prone to tangling, demanded the kind of upkeep that an average person couldn’t afford. In Native American clothing, it served both decorative and utilitarian functions. Fringed sleeves, for example, were used to wick rainwater away from their clothing by letting it run off the edges. It was also a clever way to use up every scrap of material and make full use of the animals they hunted. 

In the early 1920s, swaying fringe became a sign of social insubordination with the rise of the “flapper look.” I recently went down a rabbit hole digging through the New York Times archives and found an article that prophesied the end of the flapper’s way of dress. In the article, the writer claims (and I later fact-checked) that the word “flapper” was actually first used in England to describe an adolescent girl “who rode in the side car of a motorcycle, and because she had not reached the debutante stage of doing her hair on the top of her head wore it hanging down her back, braided or loose, so that it flapped in the wind.”

That is, of course, not at all how the world came to know flappers, who rebelled against societal norms by bobbing their hair, listening to jazz, and wearing fringed dresses that would shake when they did the Charleston. Several decades later, in the 1970s, another generation of free-thinkers expressed their renegade spirit with an unencumbered, fluid way of dressing — breezy flowered dresses, flares and feathers, and yes, lots and lots of fringe. This bohemian aesthetic was, soon enough, adopted by designers and proliferated by glossy fashion magazines. “All languorously falling things — and with lots and lots of long, dangling fringe to keep the languor lingering … anything that makes you dream a little bit about yourself,” Vogue’s January 1970 issue advised readers. 

Since then, we’ve seen fringe swing in and out of style, especially in the early aughts, when “boho chic” made its way into mainstream fashion. At one point, it practically became synonymous with that carefree Coachella fashion we’ve now (thankfully) moved past. Last year, however, I noticed an abundance of fringed details on the runways, as designers collectively ravished in over-the-top textures — feathers, fringe, raffia — to convey the sense of lightness. At Herskind, I remember seeing extra-long and swishy fringed tops and skirts. At Cmmn Swdn, tunics were finished with fringed raffia hems, and raffia tendrils spilled from one side of tailored trousers. Fringe also held some serious sway at Balmain, Bottega Veneta, and Dolce & Gabbana. And oh, I’m still swooning over those outlandishly long fringed gloves Sportmax presented last year. 

When it comes to my personal style, I always gravitate towards pieces that catch the breeze, which is why I decided to go to extreme lengths when styling this spring trend. I started with a dramatically lengthy fringed bag by Shanghai-based Markgong. (The brand has also been showing lots of fringed looks lately, with its latest collection taking a bit more of a Western, cowgirl-inspired slant.) As soon as I saw the bag, I was reminded of another fringed piece I’d been eyeing for a while: a double-layered Jean Paul Gaultier jersey top, with a cascade of fringe that falls all the way to the back of my legs. I was actually impressed by how closely the fringe matched — the thickness and weight were nearly identical.

I teamed it up with a pair of tailored pants, cinched at the waist to keep everything looking clean and structured. Then, to tie it all together, I matched the circular, grommet details of the belt with a pair of earrings — also Jean Paul Gaultier — that look like the top piece of a metal can. Of course, I finished everything off with my go-to tabis that I’ve been styling pretty much every one (save an outfit or two) of my looks with for a little under a year. And voila! Looking to recreate this fun fringed look for the spring season? Here’s where to shop every item — with some worthy swaps for sold-out items. 

All products featured on MGR are independently selected by me. Although I may receive compensation from purchases made via these links, this does not influence my selections.