Are you from New York even?
How do people dress where you’re from?
Kendrick Lamar headlined this year’s Super Bowl Halftime Show, delivering a performance that perfectly packaged the incredible artistic run he’s been on. Known for his political outspokenness and unapologetic commitment to platforming Black culture at the highest levels, Lamar used this moment to make a statement.
His Grammy-winning song Not Like Us not only secured his victory in the highly publicized feud with Drake but also served as a sharp critique of culture vulturing—the widespread adoption of Black aesthetics in mainstream culture while stripping away the spirit and significance of the people who created them. This pattern extends beyond music to style, language, and more.
Lamar’s performance was infused with Americana influences, blending patriotism with protest. His dancers wore red, white, and blue sweatsuits, while Samuel L. Jackson, dressed as Uncle Sam, reinforced the show’s bold political commentary on the current state of the U.S. and the world.
Lamar’s set subtly referenced conflicts both personal and global—ranging from his ongoing feud with Drake to the devastating wars in Gaza, Sudan, and beyond. Through wardrobe choices, the performance explored the idea of “correct” settings: when and where one is permitted to speak, represent their culture, or assert their identity. In a time of increasing scrutiny over self-expression, clothing becomes more than just fashion—it is a political statement.
Beyond the broader political themes, Lamar’s performance was also deeply personal. He used one of the world’s biggest stages to represent the communities he comes from, bringing his lived experiences and cultural roots to a space that has often excluded voices like his. His presence—along with the imagery and styling of the performance—challenged notions of respectability and proved that raw, unfiltered Black artistry belongs in even the most mainstream, corporate settings.
Throughout the performance, wardrobe served as a powerful tool to underscore themes of liberation, revolution, and the deep racial and ethnic divides shaping today’s world.
Aside from all the buzz surrounding Lamar’s perfectly fit Celine bootcut denim, his look was full of intentional, high-impact details that showcased both personal style and cultural references. He sported a backward fitted cap, a nod to classic streetwear aesthetics that have long been associated with hip-hop culture. Lamar also wore a custom Martine Rose leather jacket with the word ‘Gloria’ boldly across the front, in reference to a single from his latest album GNX. He also wore Deion Sanders' Nike Air DT Max '96 sneakers, a retro style that echoed the '90s era of sports culture and sneakerhead fandom, a fitting nod to the intersections of sports, music, and fashion. His dancers wore baggy blue jeans and oversized white tees with Jordans, gold Grillz, and Converse high tops—all staples.
Kendrick Lamar’s style has always reflected his roots, consistently paying homage to a distinctly West Coast aesthetic that blends streetwear with cultural significance. His fashion choices are intentional, not just in what he wears but in how he carries himself—never dressing to conform but to authentically represent his identity and where he comes from.
At the Grammys, he recently sported a light-wash denim-on-denim ensemble with a sideways cap, a look that nodded to classic ‘90s West Coast hip-hop style while maintaining his signature understated confidence. He’s often seen in Nike Cortez sneakers, a shoe deeply tied to Los Angeles street culture, as well as oversized bomber jackets and relaxed silhouettes that evoke a sense of effortless cool and swagger, characteristic of early rap culture.
Within any subculture or community, a distinct way of dressing emerges, a uniform of sorts, shaped by cultural, environmental, economic, and historical influences. It’s why you can see Dickies and Nike Cortez and immediately think of California or a black puffer coat and Timberlands and picture New York City. These pieces take on new life and meaning through the people who wear them, infused with the culture, identity, and spirit of their communities.
Different parts of the country have distinct ways of dressing—specific pieces, brands, or silhouettes that people strongly identify with. These styles aren’t just trends; they’re deeply ingrained in the culture of a place, shaped by a mix of environmental, economic, historical, and social influences.
Regional "uniforms" don’t emerge from a single designer or a moment in fashion—they develop organically over time as people naturally gravitate toward pieces that reflect their surroundings and identities. Climate plays a role, influencing everything from fabric choices to layering styles. Economic conditions determine what’s accessible and how people make fashion their own, whether through customization, thrifting, or brand loyalty. Historical and ethnic influences shape aesthetics, with certain looks becoming synonymous with a city’s heritage.
In the Midwest, practicality and durability define the way people dress, favoring Carhartt jackets and heavy-duty boots, while in New York, a mix of high fashion and streetwear reigns, with Timberlands, fitted caps, and Moncler puffers being staples. A few years ago, a meme circulated, playfully suggesting that if you didn’t own a big black puffer coat, could you even call yourself a New Yorker? While the joke was lighthearted, it underscored a deeper truth—wardrobe serves as a powerful marker of belonging. The puffer jacket isn’t just a winter essential; it’s a staple of the city’s uniform, a symbol of identity woven into the fabric of New York’s culture.
On the West Coast, particularly in Los Angeles, a relaxed yet intentional style prevails—think Dickies, Converse, and flannel shirts, heavily influenced by Chicano and skate culture. The South has its own distinct markers; the cowboy boots and starched jeans of Texas ranch culture contrast with the laid-back, pastel-heavy aesthetic of Miami.
Unlike fleeting online aesthetics, these regional styles are not dictated by algorithms or short-lived trends; they evolve through lived experience, reflecting the daily realities and values of the communities that wear them. They serve as an unspoken yet powerful way for people to represent where they’re from.
Online discourse often dismisses dressing like others as unoriginal or "basic," reinforcing a paradox where people are encouraged to participate in trends but shamed for lacking individuality. Offline, in real, tight-knit communities, looking like others is a symbol of pride, a badge displaying where you come from and your connection to it. In real-life communities, a uniform carries deep pride and meaning. It’s more than just clothing—it’s a visual language that reflects history, identity, and belonging. What people wear isn’t just about fashion; it’s about storytelling, signaling where they come from, what they stand for, and the cultural legacy they carry forward.
Online spaces are frequently devoid of real substance, with most interactions being fleeting, performative, or misinformed, driven by envy and spectacle rather than genuine engagement. The internet has fostered an obsession with coveting what others have rather than truly appreciating it, reducing clothing, music, and other cultural expressions to mere aesthetics, stripped of their history, nuance, and meaning. It’s the same culture vulturism that Lamar critiqued in Not Like Us—a pattern of adopting Black style and creativity for the sake of looking “cool” while erasing the people and communities behind it.
In the U.S., you can look at different regions or even specific cities and instantly recognize a signature style shaped by the ethnic cultures, climate, and history of that place. Each of these regional styles isn’t just about looking a certain way—it’s about carrying on a legacy, adapting to an environment, and wearing something that means something beyond the surface. While this is not consciously thought, its deeper implications are always felt.
A uniform in these communities is more than a look—it’s a statement of identity, history, and pride.
Style doesn’t exist in a vacuum—it’s a collective experience, influenced by surroundings, attitudes, and the character of a community. In these contexts, dressing alike isn’t a lack of individuality but rather an expression of belonging and a reflection of what it truly means to be from a place.
It’s an honor to be from somewhere, and even more so to dress like and talk like and move like the people who share that identity.