Celebrity fashion has become costume.

With the film industry awards in full swing, I hoped I would find myself intrigued, captivated or in the very least, interested in the red carpet.

But the truth is, I'm not.

I'm annoyed.

With countless celebrities locked into long term deals with luxury design houses, they present more as walking billboards rather than fashion inspiration. Their responsibility is to embody the house's ethos not to express themselves.

As a result, we’re not seeing their point of view, we’re seeing brand alignment.

The method dressing moments that had the internet swooning in recent years, have also left me cold. Including beautiful Margot Robbie's recent press tour outfits for Emerald Fennel's 'Wuthering Heights' and Zendaya in the Thierry Mugler silver robot suit for Denis Villeneuve's Dune: Part Two.

When actors dress in character for months on end, we are not seeing their style, we are seeing a strategy.

Celebrity fashion has become costume.

Fashion is such an incredible way of understanding someone's point of view, of amplifying their unique beauty, of knowing just a little bit of who they are.

Fashion says 'This is who I am' costume says 'This is the part I'm playing'.

This distinction made me wonder how often we are performing roles inside our own wardrobes?

The neutral palette that feels 'appropriate', the beige cardigan that fits in at school drop off, the black blazer that signals professionalism but drains your glow, the grey jumper that fades into the background.

All safe. All disguised.

Are we afraid to wear ourselves on our sleeves?

I found it much easier to dress with authentic power when I worked in fashion retail, particularly in my own boutique. I remember the grounded confidence of moving around that space, wearing something that felt unapologetically mine. The role didn't give me the style, but it seemed to give me the permission to own it. Outside of that space, something would quietly shift. I'd soften the outfit before I left the house, swapping the statement for the safer version.

True visibility, the kind that says 'this is me' feels risky.

So we soften it.

We edit it.

We dilute it.

What if I'm not accepted? What if people don't take me seriously? What if I don't fit in?

We end up with a watered down version of who we are.

What would change if you stopped dressing for the role and started dressing as yourself?

This week, I want you to try one bold swap. Notice the piece you automatically reach for, the one that feels safe , then ask yourself, 'What would I choose if I wasn’t trying to dilute my style?' Just swap one thing.

The beige knit for the coloured one that makes your eyes and skin radiant.

The predictable jacket for the one that feels slightly daring.

The basic shoe for the one that makes you feel fearless.

Then, notice what happens.

Because confidence isn’t built through one dramatic transformation, it’s built through tiny, repeated decisions to show up as yourself.

Truly yourself.

Julie x