Fashion is turning back on itself – away from its inclusivity prerogative. Is ultra-skinny back in fashion?
For a brief, shining moment, the fashion industry flirted with the notion of inclusivity. Plus-size models graced the covers of Vogue, diverse body types walked the runways at Fashion Week, and brands made public declarations of support for body positivity. It seemed, finally, that the industry had embraced a broader definition of beauty. And yet, as we step into 2025, that utopian vision is fraying at the seams. The era of body positivity, at least as it has existed in the mainstream, appears to be waning in favour of a return to the skinny. And in its place? A return to the ultra-thin aesthetic of the early aughts—a look synonymous with waifish models, jutting hip bones, and an insidious culture of unattainable thinness.
At the Spring/Summer 2025 fashion shows, the numbers told a sobering story. According to Vogue Business, a staggering 94.9% of the 8,763 looks featured were worn by models sized US 0-4. Plus-size representation? A meagre 0.8%. Compared to just a few years ago, when the body positivity movement seemed to be making headway, this represents a near-total reversal. The message, intentional or not, is clear: fashion’s elite have grown weary of inclusivity.
The Rise (and Fall) of Inclusivity
The body positivity movement was never without its critics. Dismissed by some as a fleeting marketing trend and by others as a misguided glorification of unhealthy lifestyles, its place in mainstream culture was precarious from the outset. Nevertheless, its impact was undeniable. It forced conversations about size diversity, health, and representation onto the global stage. Luxury designers, who had once exclusively cast rail-thin models, began to incorporate a smattering of plus-size and mid-size women in their campaigns. Even brands notorious for their rigid beauty standards, like Victoria’s Secret, underwent rebrands to appear more inclusive.
But by the early 2020s, cracks had begun to show. Despite the high-profile inclusion of plus-size models like Ashley Graham and Paloma Elsesser, the fashion industry’s commitment to diversity often felt performative. Sample sizes remained rigidly skinny, high-fashion houses continued to design with a singular body type in mind, and critics argued that plus-size representation was being limited to a handful of token names rather than truly shaking up the industry’s rigid ideals.
The Influence of Y2K Nostalgia
Fashion is nothing if not cyclical, and the return of Y2K trends—low-rise jeans, micro-mini skirts, and skin-tight silhouettes—has played a crucial role in shifting body standards. These styles, beloved in the early 2000s, were originally designed to be worn on ultra-thin bodies. In their first iteration, they were famously championed by the likes of Paris Hilton, Nicole Richie, and the Olsen twins—women whose frames were often scrutinised and praised in equal measure by the tabloids of the time.
The resurgence of these styles in the 2020s coincides with an undeniable shift in body ideals, back towards the skinny. While the 2010s ushered in the era of the Kardashian-inspired hourglass figure—emphasising curves, particularly via plastic surgery enhancements—the current aesthetic leans dramatically towards the pre-Kardashian era: a silhouette that prioritises extreme thinness over voluptuousness.
It’s no accident that this shift has coincided with the rise of weight-loss drugs like Ozempic. Originally intended for diabetes patients, the drug has found an eager audience in Hollywood, where whispers of its use abound. Celebrities and influencers, once celebrated for their curves, have been reappearing on red carpets looking conspicuously leaner, prompting speculation about the return of the so-called “heroin chic” aesthetic.
The Ozempic Effect
Perhaps the most damning evidence of this shift is the near-miraculous transformations sweeping through Hollywood making everyone skinny. Page Six recently reported that actress and activist Jameela Jamil has been outspoken about what she calls the “era of Ozempic heroin chic,” warning that the normalisation of these rapid, medically induced weight losses is a dangerous step backward. Having battled an eating disorder herself, Jamil understands the perils of placing thinness above all else.
The rise of weight-loss drugs as a status symbol is eerily reminiscent of the diet pill craze of the 90s and early 2000s, when amphetamine-based substances were widely used (and abused) by those desperate to maintain impossibly lean figures. Today, the same cycle is repeating, but with the veneer of medical legitimacy. The difference? Instead of being sold under-the-counter, these new weight-loss solutions are being championed openly on TikTok, Instagram, and even by some healthcare professionals.
The Consequences of a Cultural Shift
The impact of this regression extends far beyond the fashion industry. The return to an ultra-thin ideal has serious repercussions, particularly for young people who are highly susceptible to beauty trends. Social media platforms, already under fire for their role in perpetuating unrealistic body standards, are flooded with content glorifying extreme weight loss. Influencers, once heralded for embracing body diversity, are quietly editing their images to conform to the shifting tides of desirability.
For those who have fought for greater representation, this backslide is infuriating. “It feels like we’re back in 2005,” says cultural critic and body positivity advocate Stephanie Yeboah. “The progress we made—real, tangible progress—has been wiped out in a matter of months.”
The reality is, body positivity was never just about aesthetics. It was about dismantling a rigid, harmful hierarchy that equated worth with weight. By reinstating ultra-thinness as the standard, the industry risks undoing years of hard-won progress.
Where Do We Go From Here?
So, is this the end of body positivity? Not necessarily. But it is a moment of reckoning. As brands retreat into the safety of old, familiar ideals, consumers face a choice: accept this regression, or push back harder than ever.
There are signs of resistance. Independent designers and grassroots movements are continuing to champion body diversity, even as major labels turn their backs and favour the skinny body. Digital creators are calling out the hypocrisy of brands that once preached inclusivity and are now quietly phasing out plus-size lines. And the conversation—perhaps the most powerful tool of all—is still alive.
Still, the message is clear. The battle for body positivity isn’t just ongoing—it’s facing its most significant challenge yet. And if history is any indication, the fight for inclusive representation is one that must be waged relentlessly, lest we find ourselves slipping back into the dangerous ideals of the past.
One thing is certain: fashion has never been just about clothes. It is, and always has been, a reflection of power, status, and control. And as 2025 unfolds, the industry’s stance on body image reveals not just a shift in aesthetics, but a stark reality about who gets to be seen, who gets to be celebrated, and who gets left behind.
The question remains: will we allow it?