Emotional Equities: How Euphoria Turned Feelings Into Fashion Capital

Everyone has a story. But at East Highland High, these stories aren’t told – they are worn. Every look is a press release. Every hemline, a headline. And every breakdown? A couture drop. In Euphoria, fashion is more than fabric, it becomes the currency of pain, power, vulnerability and freedom. 

Costume mastermind Heidi Bivens doesn’t just dress the characters, she markets their emotions. As Bivens told Bazaar: “I hope the show encourages people to use fashion as a form of self-expression – that excites me. It is definitely something I have noticed, from season one to two, that – on social media at least – there is a lot more individuality among young people, and I really hope the show has inspired that. I hope that in the future it will be more accepted to be individualistic, to have eccentric style, even. I hope that this becomes more popular, so that it’s less of an issue when it comes to young people being able to be who they really are.” 

Translation? In Euphoria, individuality is stock that never stops climbing. Let’s spill the tea on how the drama and characters’ emotional portfolios are unveiled through fashion.

Picture this: each Euphoria girl displays a fashion history, where each characters’ style is placed in a particular decade. Why? In order to showcase different garments and styles to elevate the shows’ cinematography but most importantly to differentiate the characters and give them a voice of their own. 

Character Fashion Portfolios incoming…

Jules’ rebrand: The chameleon of femininity

Jules’ metamorphosis needs to be studied. Not to worry, The Fashion Stock Market has got you covered. Jules trades soft-girl aesthetics like currency. When we first meet her she is dripping in pastel pinks, glitter, lace pastel dresses and pink extensions decorate her blonde hair. Lace shows up in over 66% of key fashion moments on the show, and Jules practically is that stat. The whole ensemble screams hyper-femininity. But here’s the thing. Jules’ look isn’t just girlishness, it is survival. She’s a trans woman grappling with identity. Jules forces herself to over perform femininity and oversexualises herself in order to feel more secure. She’s performing this ultra feminine look, oversells it in efforts to wrestle with her identity as a trans woman, trying to secure womanhood in a world that questions it daily.  Her season 1 Barbie aesthetic is simply a defense, masking her internal dissonance. A way to claim femininity on her own terms, even if it means overcompensating. Indeed, Jules overcompensates with hyper feminine looks in efforts to convince herself (and the world) that she belongs. 

But femininity, she realises, is not a one-size-fits-all stock. It’s a volatile asset, especially when it is being measured by the patriarchy. 

When Jules meets Rue – who’s wrestling with her own interior turmoil – Jules sheds the sugar coated layers, and with that, reclaims her identity as hers. Undoubtedly, in the special episode dedicated to Jules, she questions the layers of her tainted femininity and where it derives (the patriarchy). Her confession to her therapist is exponential in decoding the breakdown of her emotional identity and, as a result, her fashion evolution. She states: ‘I feel like I’ve framed my entire womanhood around men.’ With Rue she finds liberation from this caged feeling. In this special episode, Jules has shifted. She no longer has pink in her hair, she is not wearing makeup and her clothes at the dance at the end of season 1 are dark as she not only is in black trousers but has black in her hair. At the start of season 2 she has cut her hair, wears black and a much darker colour palette, distancing herself from those bubblegum pink hues she embraced in the beginning but rather grasping a more androgynous style. This evolution mirrors her emotional growth: less about performing for the male gaze and more about owning her identity without filters. Jules’ style isn’t just a look, it is an emotional autobiography of the facets of herself she’s lived. 

Rue Bennett: 

If anyone’s wardrobe screams emotional chaos, it’s Rue’s. Forget clean girl or flashy glam – Rue’s style consists of oversized shirts, baggy trousers and cargo shorts, and that signature messy under-eye makeup. Her wardrobe isn’t about looking pretty, it is about shielding, hiding and simply surviving. Rue’s style speaks volumes about her internal emotional battles. Her passed away dad’s maroon zip-up hoodie is her emotional cocoon, with which she conceals her vulnerability. As her addiction deepens in S2, her colour palette darkens and she will gravitate towards dark, sombre tones reflecting her unprocessed trauma. She is not dressing to be seen (unlike Cassie) but she is dressing to disappear. 

In a show of glam and glitter, Rue’s grunge stands out. A reminder that fashion, too, can grieve. 

Cassie Howard: 

Cassie is Euphoria’s poster child for feminine fashion: baby blues, puff sleeves, and blush-toned mini dresses, soft, romantic and hyper-feminine. She radiates femininity, but hers is always in service to someone else. Pastels never felt so tragic. But beneath that pastel veneer lies a fragile identity. Heidi Bivens even had Cassie mimic Maddy’s style and fortune, only to crash under its weight. Remember the turquoise two-piece nearly identical to Maddy’s? It is strategically timed to underscore Cassie’s desperate mimicry, her identity sinking under the pressure of imitation and insecurity. Cassie doesn’t just want to be loved – she wants to be chosen. And if that means dressing like her best friend to get the guy, so be it. But with every desperate ensemble, her confidence crashes like a short-sold stock. Every rosy frill conceals a question: is Cassie wearing someone else's stock? When that external value collapses, so does her confidence. 

The lack of her own sense of style is deliberate and reflects her emotional fragility and volatility. Cassie, much like with her fashion sense, moulds into a version of what someone likes whilst ultimately erasing herself in the process. Cassie yearns for male validation, and so does her wardrobe.

Photo: Taylor/Pinterest

Photo: Nanya/Pinterest

Maddy Perez: 

Photo: Pinterest

The ultimate 2000s It-Girl. She exudes Y2K queen bee energy. Think: body-hugging Akna sets and I.AM.GIA co-ords, deep-cut silhouettes with luxe purple tones (deep-V necks appear in over 44% of styles across the show). The school hallway is her runway. 

Her S2 wardrobe pivots darker, perhaps more mature. Vogue concurs that black signifies her mourning (perhaps to her previous naive self) and growing resilience. As she begins to wrestle with betrayal, pain and power on her own terms, her fashion becomes a calculated weapon. 

Photo: Pinterest

Lexi Howard:

Lexi is our reliable stock. She is the reliable, predictable asset in Euphoria’s volatile world. She dresses like the smartest girl in the room – and she probably is. Her style? 1970s prep chic, Peter Pan collars, plaid skirts, structured silhouettes and MiuMiu staples. Classic style tags show up in 77.78% of Euphoria’s fashion – and Lexi carries most of that on her shoulders. She rocks the minimalistic look with a dash of red lipstick when the occasion calls for it but dressing it down and keeping it extremely elegant with her sombre clothing. Her fashion sense is destined to outperform hype and trends. With Lexi’s wardrobe Heidi Bivens reflects vintage finds that are classics and never crash. It also shows her maturity and resilience throughout the show.

Kat Hernandez: 

Kat’s trajectory? An 80s-inspired goth revival with a modern dom twist. From corsets and chokers to a full-on harness in the shopping centre, she learned to own her sexuality. Once the overshadowed friend of the group, now the intimidating and take-charge It-Girl.  

But Season 2? Kat is curiously muted. The once-fearless disruptor gets a backseat arc, her fashion stripped of its impact. It feels like a metaphor: even power players can be edited out.

Still, Kat’s Season 1 legacy stands. She proved that fashion isn’t just about looking hot – it’s about taking control of the narrative.

Behind the drama and the glitter, Euphoria is a Gen Z fashion thesis. 

Costume designer Heidi Bivens doesn’t dress characters in runway hype or trend-chasing brands. She handpicks vintage treasures, deadstock rarities, and rising indie labels, crafting a closet that aligns with the sustainability ethos of a  generation raised on Depop and climate consciousness. These aren’t just outfits – they’re curated identities.

Each character’s wardrobe operates as an emotional investment portfolio. Whether it's Rue’s oversized armor of grief or Maddy’s curated confidence, their fashion choices chart inner volatility. And the market responds: after every episode, thrift platforms trend, niche designers go viral, and wardrobes worldwide quietly recalibrate.

Euphoria doesn’t follow the fashion cycle – it disrupts it. It doesn’t sell you luxury through logos; it sells you rawness, vulnerability, and the radical idea that your feelings are the most expensive thing you own.

Fashion, in Euphoria, isn’t about dressing to impress –  it’s about dressing to express.

Fashion in Euphoria is emotional equity. 

So next time you are getting dressed, remember: the market’s always watching. 

XOXO, The Fashion Stock Market