Let’s be honest about celebrity fashion for a second, shall we? For every groundbreaking Zendaya red carpet moment meticulously crafted by Law Roach, there are fifty starlets in virtually identical nude illusion dresses designed to generate Instagram likes rather than actual fashion conversation. I’ve spent enough time in the crowded press pens at major award shows—elbowing fellow journalists for a decent shot while shouting “WHO ARE YOU WEARING?” at celebrities who can’t hear me over the din—to know that most mainstream celebrity fashion has become painfully predictable.
Don’t get me wrong. I still get a little thrill when a major star takes a genuine risk on the red carpet (Nicole Kidman in that Balenciaga couture at the Met Gala nearly made me spill my coffee when the alerts hit my phone at 6 AM). But after a decade-plus covering celebrity style, I’ve come to a somewhat uncomfortable realization: The people who actually drive meaningful fashion trends in 2024 are rarely the ones with fifty million Instagram followers and major fashion contracts.
The real fashion influence is happening on the margins—with working actors instead of megastars, indie musicians instead of chart-toppers, and cultural figures who aren’t household names but command intense devotion from the right audiences. These are the people stylists reference in mood boards, the faces designers actually want wearing their more experimental pieces, and the style icons who move the needle on how real people dress.
I first noticed this shift about three years ago when I was interviewing Simone, a buyer for a major luxury department store.
When I asked which celebrities were driving sales, she laughed and said, “You know who actually sells clothes? Character actresses in their fifties and obscure European DJs that nobody over thirty has heard of.” That conversation sent me down a rabbit hole that fundamentally changed how I think about celebrity fashion influence.
Let me introduce you to some of the actual style influencers of 2024—the people who aren’t covering Vogue but are secretly shaping what we’ll all be wearing six months from now.
First up is Talia Ryder, who you might vaguely recognize from a supporting role in that indie drama everybody talked about last year, or maybe from her brief appearance in a Spielberg remake. She’s not a household name, but fashion insiders have been watching her like hawks since she started working with stylist Jessica Willis two years ago. Her approach to red carpet dressing—mixing vintage Jean Paul Gaultier with emerging designers and unexpected menswear pieces—has been quietly influencing celebrity styling across the board.
I caught up with her at a film festival in March where she was wearing archival Comme des Garçons that made her look like she was being gradually consumed by an elegant gray cloud. “I just wear what makes me feel something,” she told me, sipping a club soda in the corner of an after-party while bigger stars posed for photos in the center of the room. Three months later, elements of that look—the asymmetrical draping, the tonal gray palette, the deliberately “difficult” silhouette—had trickled up to a major luxury brand’s resort collection. Coincidence? My sources say absolutely not.
Then there’s Joshua Omaru Marley, the London-based DJ and producer who’s never charted in the US but whose personal style has launched a thousand menswear blogs. His signature mix of meticulously tailored vintage suits paired with technical outerwear and handmade jewelry from obscure artisans has been quietly shaping how forward-thinking men dress for the past eighteen months.
I spoke with three different menswear designers who all mentioned him as a reference without any prompting from me. “He’s who we imagine wearing the more experimental pieces in the collection,” admitted the design director of a luxury brand you definitely know but whose name I promised not to print. “We always say, ‘Would Joshua wear this?’ If the answer is no, we usually rethink it.”
What’s most interesting about these under-the-radar style influencers is how they’ve built their fashion credibility: not through massive paid partnerships or by wearing whatever brands send them, but through deeply personal style choices that feel authentic and considered. They’re not wearing “looks”—they’re developing a visual language that’s distinctly their own.
Take filmmaker Sasha Kumar, whose blend of South Asian textile traditions with ’70s Americana and workwear has created a style so distinctive that I can spot her across a crowded room. Her Instagram follower count is modest by celebrity standards (around 200K), but her influence within fashion circles is immense. When she wore a vintage Kenzo jacket with hand-embroidered details to a screening last fall, three different fast fashion brands released suspiciously similar pieces within weeks.
“I actually hate being photographed,” she told me over coffee in the East Village, wearing a hand-loomed cotton kurta over vintage Levi’s and well-worn Blundstones. “But I love the stories clothes tell.” This sentiment—fashion as personal narrative rather than attention-seeking device—was echoed by almost every under-the-radar style influencer I spoke with for this piece.
Even in the music world, the most interesting fashion moments are coming from artists operating just below superstar level. Yes, Beyoncé and Rihanna still move markets with a single Instagram post (and look incredible doing it), but the musicians who have designers frantically taking notes are names your parents might not recognize.
London-based singer Temi Oni, with her mix of ’90s minimalism, West African textiles, and unexpected vintage, has inspired more designer collections than many A-listers with ten times her fame. “We wanted Temi for our show because she actually understands the clothes,” a publicist for a major fashion house told me at Paris Fashion Week. “She’s not just wearing them because her stylist said to.”
This shift toward less obvious fashion influences makes perfect sense in our current cultural moment. In an era where algorithms serve us increasingly homogenized content and major celebrities have become risk-averse personal brands, true style innovation naturally migrates to the periphery. The most influential fashion voices are those with enough cultural capital to matter but not so much mainstream fame that experimenting becomes risky.
What’s particularly fascinating is how these under-the-radar style setters influence what we all end up wearing, even if we don’t know their names. The trickle-down (or sometimes trickle-up) effect of their fashion choices is more profound than most people realize.
Remember last year’s sudden obsession with ballet flats paired with slouchy oversized denim? That didn’t start with the TikTok star who made it go viral. It started eight months earlier with Elodie Chen, the ceramicist and occasional model whose wardrobe of vintage Charvet shirts, men’s Levi’s 501s, and beaten-up Repetto flats launched a thousand copycats. By the time the trend hit the mainstream, Chen had already moved on to Western boots and tailored shorts (which, not coincidentally, started appearing in store windows about four months later).
“The real fashion cycle is: interesting person with genuine style wears something — industry insiders notice — designers reference it — celebrities wear the designer version — mass market adopts it,” explained Tyler, now a stylist for a major fashion magazine, when I called him to discuss this phenomenon. “By the time most celebrities are wearing a trend, the originators have abandoned it.”
This isn’t to say major celebrities have no fashion influence—of course they do. When Florence Pugh wears a particular shade of green, that color will show up everywhere within months. When Timothée Chalamet champions a particular silhouette, young men around the world follow suit. The machine of celebrity fashion marketing is powerful and effective.
But there’s a difference between moving product and moving the actual direction of fashion. The former is about visibility and reach; the latter is about creativity and innovation. And increasingly, they’re happening in different spheres.
“Most A-list celebrities are too valuable as marketing properties to take real risks,” a luxury brand marketing director told me off the record over drinks. “We love when they wear our commercial pieces. But when we’re thinking about the future direction of the brand? We’re looking at the weird art kids with 50K followers who styled our runway sample in a way we never imagined.”
This dynamic creates an interesting tension in how fashion influence actually works in 2024. The real trend originators are often several steps ahead of the mainstream, abandoning looks just as they’re being embraced by the wider world. By the time a major celebrity is photographed in a trend that’s been bubbling up from these less famous style setters, the originators have already moved on to something new—creating a constantly evolving cycle of influence that keeps fashion moving forward.
I experienced this firsthand at a dinner party last month, when I complimented a fashion editor on her gorgeous vintage YSL blazer paired with painter’s pants and sculptural jewelry. “Oh this?” she laughed. “I completely stole the idea from Nova Chen’s outfit at that gallery opening in March.” I had to Google Nova Chen later—turned out she was a set designer with about 30K Instagram followers whose distinctive style had apparently been influencing half the fashion editors in New York without most people knowing her name.
So what does this all mean for how we think about celebrity style influence? For one thing, it suggests we should be looking beyond the obvious when seeking fashion inspiration. The most interesting style evolution is happening with the supporting actress, not the lead; the indie artist, not the chart-topper; the filmmaker rather than the movie star.
It also reveals something about authenticity in fashion. The celebrities with the most genuine style influence aren’t usually the ones with the biggest endorsement deals or the most consistent press coverage. They’re the ones who approach fashion as a form of personal expression rather than a marketing opportunity—who dress for themselves rather than for likes or brand partnerships.
Next time you’re scrolling through red carpet photos, pay attention to the people at the edges of the frame—the ones in slightly weird outfits that make you look twice, not because they’re revealing or branded but because they’re genuinely interesting. Chances are, that’s where the next big trend is actually starting.
And if you want to stay ahead of the fashion curve? Stop following the obvious style stars and start paying attention to the character actresses, the independent filmmakers, the musicians who sell out small venues rather than stadiums, and the artists whose Instagram accounts have devoted but modest followings. Their influence might be less visible at first glance, but in the long run, they’re the ones actually moving fashion forward.
Just don’t tell the big celebrities. They still think those free designer gowns are setting trends, and honestly, why burst their bubble? There’s room in this industry for both types of influence—the commercial powerhouses and the creative pioneers. We need both the Zendayas and the Elodie Chens of the world. But only one of them is likely to predict what you’ll be wearing next season, and I’ll give you a hint: it’s not the one with 200 million followers and a Super Bowl commercial.
