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The PrettyLittleThing unicorn has had a makeover. Or should that be makeunder? The mascot of the notorious fast fashion label was once resplendent in pink, soaring onto the brand’s packaging powered by cartoonish wings. Its very presence conjured up images of bodycon dresses covered in cut-outs, of brand deals with Love Island stars, of an entire website section devoted to the concept of “jeans and a nice top”. But now, the unicorn’s wings have disappeared. It has been stripped back to a line drawing. And it certainly isn’t pink any longer. Instead, it’s embossed on a beige backdrop.
This toned-down emblem is just part of PrettyLittleThing’s sweeping rebrand, unveiled to customers earlier this week. Gone is the shouty, all-caps logo. In its place is a swirly calligraphy-style font. The bright pink visuals are gone, replaced by rich burgundies, browns, creams and yes, inevitably, plenty of beige. The clothes, similarly, draw from a drab palette. Waistcoats, bouclé co-ords and ruched, long-sleeved maxi dresses abound. So do buttoned-up, round-necked suit jackets reminiscent of Angela Merkel’s capsule wardrobe for a G20 summit. There’s barely a pattern, or an inexplicable cut-out, to be seen. According to PLT, this shake-up “heralds an elevated new era that celebrates the brand’s heritage while boldly reimagining its future”.
PLT’s tactic is clear. The brand once best known as the purveyor of questionably cheap clothes for going “out-out” is trying to jump on the bandwagon of so-called quiet luxury. This trend is about clothes that whisper rather than shout. It’s a more pared-back, minimal, even small-c conservative approach to fashion that has become ubiquitous online (and in real life) over the past few years. Think Sofia Richie’s understated glam or, closer to home, (former PLT creative director) Molly-Mae Hague with her beige-greige wardrobe and matching clothing brand. PLT is banking on the fact that dressing in a way that some would call classic, and many would call a bit tedious, is in right now.
The irony, of course, is that quiet luxury isn’t just about the look; it’s also supposed to be all about quality, attention to detail, and opting for investment pieces that you’ll wear over and over again. And, frankly, this couldn’t be further from PLT’s past ethos (or their “heritage”, to borrow their own wording). Even boss Umar Kamani has admitted that whereas once the brand’s “focus” was to have “a dress on site at £4”, now they’ve changed their aim: to “having a dress that’s thicker, not see-through, and a better fit”. When “not see through” is your marker of success, it’s safe to say the bar for craftsmanship is not exactly high.
Here’s a quick rundown of PrettyLittleThing’s “heritage”. In 2020, the brand launched a 99 per cent off Black Friday sale, reducing its items to mere pennies: think 8p for a dress and 25p for a pair of high heels. This was widely criticised for apparently encouraging unsustainable levels of consumption, and yet the same stunt returned over the next couple of years.
In 2020, an undercover Sunday Times report claimed that workers in a Leicester factory with links to PLT’s parent company Boohoo were being paid £3.50 an hour (Boohoo said the factory, Jaswal Fashions, was not a direct supplier). An independent review commissioned by Boohoo in the wake of that report found that allegations about poor working practices were “substantially true”. The company later unveiled an “agenda for change” to address these concerns, but a 2023 BBC Panorama documentary claimed they’d broken some of the promises made. In response, Boohoo said they’d “invested significant time, effort and resource into driving positive change across every aspect of our business and supply chain”.
As of now, PLT’s rebrand hasn’t included any new statements about, say, the brand’s sustainability practices or supply chain transparency. Instead, the focus is entirely on the new look. “If we’re a style source, it means committing to being on the cutting edge of the trend,” one particularly baffling, nondescript line from a new Instagram graphic reads. “It means committing to curating, editorialising, playing in culture.” I spent years working in fashion journalism, so probably have a higher tolerance for the industry’s grandiose mission statements than most. But I can make little to no sense of this jumble, which reads a bit like the work of a desperate undergrad trying to hit their word count half an hour before their essay deadline. And that’s the more charitable interpretation. Is anyone really asking for PLT to commit to “playing in culture”, whatever the hell that involves? The more cynical-minded might argue that it’s all a big distraction from bigger questions about the brand’s practices. I can’t help but think about what is going to happen to PLT’s old stock, the stuff that doesn’t fit in with this new Love Island: country club edition look.
In fact, the whole endeavour feels utterly empty. The rebrand isn’t just a blatant attempt to chase a lucrative trend now that PLT’s original aesthetic has fallen out of favour. It’s yet more proof of the gaping void at the heart of fast fashion. These labels will echo and mimic any aesthetic; they have no real identity at their core, instead chasing trends and styles that originated elsewhere and ridding those styles of any meaning or authenticity that they might have once had.
It’s fashion as simulacrum, and it’s deeply, deeply depressing. What’ll be more sad, though, is if it sells – because then we won’t just be buying the products, but buying a hollow fairy tale too.
