Pheasants and blonde girls with wind-tousled blowouts hanging from the back of a vintage Jeep, clad with an explosion of farmer caps, tweed, hip flasks, and Veuve Clicquot, never far from a signet-ring embellished hand. A snapshot seemingly straight from Tatler’s front page spread. Except it’s not the usual Heirloom Pearl, Pimms, and Pillbox age bracket you’re expecting, it’s the new generation “Weekending” on TikTok, with 1.8 million views. Half a century after its inception, the Sloane Ranger rides again —only this time, it’s streamed in 4K.
The term “Sloane Ranger” was coined in 1975 and codified in the 1982 publication of The Official Sloane Ranger Handbook, a satirical guide to the lifestyle of the DeBeers-and-Duffle-Coat demographic populating SW5. The style is an ode to British heritage, steeped in exclusivity and earthy tones, and embodies a sense of loyalty to the traditions of older generations. Passed down from parent to child alongside the family signet ring, double-barreled surname and estate, the Sloane spirit was consigned to a relatively small and exclusive social circle that included a certain daughter of the Earl of Spencer, the late Princess Diana. Gracing the front cover of York’s Handbook, the quote unquote “supersloane” became the archetypal crown jewel of such a lifestyle, who put the tribe on the sociological map as she, in her pie crusts and pearls, was thrust into the public eye following her 1982 engagement to the Prince of Wales, or as we now know him, King Charles III.
However, by the end of the decade, Peter York, the author of the handbook, reflects that the style decidedly “couldn’t have been more out”, and Sloanes slipped from the spotlight and retreated to the open arms of the upper-class enclave that birthed it. So why now, almost 50 years after its inception, are “fusty wardrobes of Britain’s upper class” conquering the attention of a new generation?
This Ranger Renaissance didn’t appear out of thin air; rather, the lifestyle’s emergence in Gen Z’s cultural consciousness comes as no surprise, with depictions of Sloane-esque styles trickling down from a resurgence onscreen and on the runway. The cashmere and country culture has fastened its grip on fashion and haute couture, with Elle naming “Sloane Ranger 2.0” the biggest trend of this year’s London Fashion Week. Sloanes are decidedly back on the catwalk, from Miu Miu’s Balmoral Line to Laura Andraschko’s s/s ‘25 collection, aptly named “Sloane Ranger”, which featured satirical Sloaney slogans like “My Boyfriend Went To Eton” combined with classic staples of the style like cable knits, tennis whites, tweed and Wellington Boots. This revival of British tradition in fashion is not niche or micro by any means, with Burberry under creative director Daniel Lee, dusting off its 1901 Prorsum EKD logo, signaling a more permanent return to classic British heritage, the heartbeat of Sloane style.
Furthermore, with recent media releases like Netflix’s The Crown and the film Spencer, painting the life of Princess Diana as the epicentre of Sloane style, it only makes sense that the look she embodied has been catapulted back in the mainstream, with a new generation adopting Sloane staples like velvet headbands, pearls, pie crusts and silk scarfs in hair and around necks.
The modern adaptation of Sloane style moves away from the subtlety and sleekness of our parents’ quiet luxury and its trademark minimalist flair, in which logos are found only on the perfectly pressed inside label. Traditional Sloane centerpieces are being reinvigorated with a Boho-Chic and Indie-Sleaze twist, creating a stylish juxtaposition of curated pieces seemingly thrown together with an effortless air. With her smudged eye makeup and muffed-up blonde locks with grown-out roots, Venetia Catton is perhaps the poster child of third-generation Sloanes. As the director of Saltburn, Emerald Fennell, tells GQ, “In England, the richer and more old money people are, the more in disarray their clothes.” This effortless (edging on slightly dishevelled) air sets it apart from the conformity of the traditional Sloane style, and functions as a direct protest to the carefully curated clean girl aesthetic that reigned supreme last year, and has since been shoved to the back of the closet with the ghosts of cow print bucket hats, high rise jeans and that one House of Sunny green dress.
Hence, this broader resurgence of Sloane-reminiscent style could be an attempt to cling to something stable and tangible in a fashion sphere ruthlessly perpetuated by microtrends. As outlined in the Handbook, the style is quintessentially built for longevity in contrast to the nowadays disposable nature of trend cycles. With its base qualities of durable fabrics and stylistically traditional roots, the Sloane Ranger is “never high fashion, thus never out of fashion.” Furthermore, this search for a sense of stability is more than (fabric on) skin deep, but is also an attempt for emotional permanence and security in today’s political and economic climate. Rogers reinforces that trying to look a certain social class isn’t the appeal of new-era Sloanes, instead “It’s a desire for a braced-for-anything attitude which the rained-on Sloanes do so well.” What The Devil Wear’s Prada’s Miranda Priestly drives home in her Cerulean Blue monologue rings true: fashion is more than fabric. Our seemingly personal and straightforward fashion choices reflect wider cultural movements and industry choices permeating far beyond the consumer’s periphery.
There’s a certain irony in young people dressing for Sandringham during a cost of living crisis. Perhaps the hook lies in the degree of hedonism this lifestyle embodies. The opulence of country retreats, sumptuous knits, and copious champagne consumption is almost intoxicating for young people who can’t afford a home. Is this Sloane surge some strange avoidance tactic? A coping mechanism where young people are using tangible garments to embody an ideal lifestyle of older generations that was promised to us and never delivered?
Though the lifestyle is unquestionably back in the limelight, we’ve yet to see whether Sloane Ranger 2.0 will stick around longer than its predecessor. Aside from pointing towards a desire for stability in finance and fashion, the Carrie Bradshaw in me can’t help but wonder if this resurrected ode to the upper echelons of British society has broader implications on national attitudes and politics. Cue Sophie Ellis Baxter’s Murder on the Dancefloor, this cultural introspection of Cable Knits and Clicquot is best served chilled, preferably in a crystal glass.