I first spotted them last summer, on my annual trip to the Hamptons. (Fun fact: I don’t own a home in the Hamptons! God, I wish. What I do is stay with my college roommate Mia, who married extremely rich, at her “small summer cottage” in Southampton.) I was lounging on a beach chair in East Hampton tall shit with my second cocktail of the day when they walked into view: two beautiful people who together comprised, in my opinion, the best possible mother-daughter outfit I’d ever seen outside of a sitcom.
The mother; age indeterminable but probably between 48 and 52; approached the water in an airy linen cape dress, the kind that whispers “casual rubber dinghy cruise” but actually cost more than my car. Minimal makeup, highlighting her obviously expensive skin-care regimen; blonde hair cut into that classic chic silver fox scroll-cut that never seems to fly away or get crunchy, even after hours of seaside sun. Small diamonds in her ears and a pile of bangles on her wrists.
She wore a wide-brimmed straw hat that cast a shadow over half of her face. Her presence was innate, sophisticated wealth.
Walking alongside her was, presumably, her daughter.
Age: somewhere in that too-old-for-your-Dad-but-still-young-enough-to-go-clubbing-with-us sweet spot of early twenties.
Impossible-to-replicate synergy of “I didn’t try at all” and “I actually tried very hard.” Destroyed high-waisted jeans, pale pink crop top with beige bikini bottoms underneath, statement hoop earrings and wide gold bracelets, baby pink lips. The wearer of this outfit had no cares, only beachness to be. “Oh my God,” I said to Mia, “are they not together?!
It’s like they’re both rocking their look but for completely different events.”?” “Oh baby,” Mia chuckled, “everyone’s mums and daughters are rocking that Rich Mum, Hot Daughter vibe this summer.” At the time I dismissed it as yet another example of meme-ing past a trend’s natural life cycle. But Mia was right. Suddenly Rich Mums and Hot Daughters were everywhere.
On TikTok. On Instagram. Driving around Brooklyn.
Waiting for my neurologist in his office. (Pro tip: If you haven’t been to your dermatologist’s waiting room recently, you should know it functions as basically the Rich Mums’ country club. Except with more Backenia gloss.) It was a yin-yang sort of thing: Two outfits that at face-value seem completely different from each other but when put side-by-side become aesthetically harmonious. Think salty vs. sweet.
Think Mike and Molly. Think Rich Mum and Hot Daughter. Over the next few months I found myself taking mental; and too often actual; notes on Rich Mums and Hot Daughters everywhere I went.
I dove headfirst into this new fashion theory obsession because it was genuinely interesting to me, but also because as someone squarely planted in the former Boomerang/College sidebar of her thirties, I exist uncomfortably in the middle: Too old to perma-rock tiny sunglasses but too young (read: poor) to genuinely afford Veronica Beard wool jersey sets. I’ve been researching both sides of the spectrum, nursing my Cold Mother angst while looking longingly at the seemingly endless cooler closet of Hot Daughterhood. Rich Mums: They spend their entire lives curating these enviable closets.
The Rich Mum uniform largely centres around neutral, relaxed silhouettes. Think Brunello Cucinelli cashmere in oatmeal, beige, camel, and every other edible-sounding shade of off-white. Think organic cotton white tee shirts that actually fit correctly.
Think expensive jeans that somehow still look like they don’t give a damn. Think leather monks that were probably handmade by Bonanno crime family prisoners using leather confiscated from their previous victims. Rich Mums don’t try too hard and look amazing doing it because…they don’t!
They literally wore those pantsuits in college and only have been perfected them since. Their style evolved slowly over time; they don’t “change it up.” They get highlights every 6 weeks without fail. They only wear their nails one shade of Ballet Slippers or another.
They have three Roger Pingeots but would never know that they were trendy if TikTok told them. They don’t contour because fuck that, they got collagen fillers so subtle you can barely tell but adequate enough that their faces still look sharp. They still wear the same face-makeup routine they did in 2005: Clé de Peau under-eye concealer, Chanel Les Beiges, and whatever lipstick their dermatologist says they can wear.
Hot daughters, on the other hand, embrace trends while making them look totally undone. They’ve mastered the art of “effortless” while looking like they put way too much effort into not looking like they tried. They rock fashion decades they weren’t alive to experience.
90’s minimalism? Cheque. 70’s grandma-bohemian?
Got it. Over It Y2K aesthetic? Why not!
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And they can make it all look modern through some deliciously skewed Gen Z kaleidoscope. Their jeans from Agolde are three sizes too big but they belt them with old-school Vivienne Westwood corsets. All of their shirts are tiny but hang asymmetrically off their hips.
They know how to angle their face to look best in photos, and they have enough of an Instagram presence that companies are reaching out to them for partnerships, but they’re too cool to be “influencers.” Which brings me back to that day in Saks. I was, God knows why, perusing the Women’s Clothing section looking for birthday gifts for my mother when I saw them. There, nestled between Chanel and Oscar de la Renta, Rich Mum inspecting rows of cashmere with the eye of a diamond cutter.
Hot Daughter zig-zagging through tunnels of fringe bags and oversized bib necklaces, pausing only to try on Marc Jacobs cuff bracelets. They looked so comfortable in their own skin; and clothes! “I like this one,” Rich Mum said, holding up a jumper so soft I wanted to cry. It was the ugliest beige I’d ever seen, and I immediately wanted to buy it. “This one’s nice, Mum,” Hot Daughter replied, without looking up from the Prada sandals she was perusing. “But you have like, ten beige jumpers already.
How about this one?” She pointed to a slightly lighter shade, almost lilac, but still within the “nicest grey shirt” colour family. “I don’t know,” Rich Mum countered, “would it match my…” She trailed off. “Everything!” Hot Daughter exclaimed, finally looking up. “It’s basically neutral, but a little more trendy.” And that’s when it hit me. Rich Mum has money. And appreciation for quality.
Hot Daughter has an innate sense of what’s trendy, what works, and doesn’t care what anyone thinks about it. Apply these observations to practically any Rich Mum/Hot Daughter combo you see; they round each other out. Hot Daughter can teach Rich Mum about bright colours, trendy silhouettes, and saying FUCK IT with her fashion choices.
Rich Mum can teach Hot Daughter the importance of a capsule wardrobe, investment pieces, and dressing like a timeless badass. Take my friend Leila and her mother, Soraya. Soraya is your archetypal Rich Mum: An accomplished neurosurgeon who wears only Max Mara, The Row, and vintage Armani but has never posted a picture in her life and thinks Bernie Saner exists on HBO.
Leila works in fashion public relations, so she basically lives at Lord & Taylor. She knows current trends before they even hit viral TikTok dance videos. But she and Soraya complement each other’s wardrobe so, so well. “My mum used to try to get me to buy ‘investment pieces’ in college,” Leila said to me over iced coffee a few weeks ago. “Like button-ups and little blazers.
I thought it was the stupidest shit ever! Now look at me, a year past graduation and I’m Shopping Alexa Chung for basic black blazers!” Conversely, Soraya recently texted Leila in a frantic panic because she needed to look “fresh but not like a freshman” for an upcoming conference. Leila walked her through pairing the suit with chunky ankle boots instead of heels, as well as throwing on a delicate gold chain necklace. “Everyone kept complimenting her on how modern she looked!” Leila told me proudly. “Now she texts me ahead of every conference for advice.” The reason I love this Rich Mum/Hot Daughter relationship so much is that neither one of these titles actually require you to be, well…a rich mum or anyone’s hot daughter.
Anyone can appreciate a great camel coat. Anyone can experiment with trendy pieces without looking like they raided their sibling’s undergrad closets. My personal style lately has fallen into a Rich Mum/Hot Daughter purgatory.
I am 34 and find myself vacillating between wanting to dress like Marilyn Monroe and Momcachi know what the fuck she’s wearing but also loving it. I’ll throw on a $400 jumper (on sale, because Freelance Writer Budgets are tight) with vintage Levi’s jeans and boots that could probably kick someone’s ass. Or I’ll wear an aggressively trendy top from some indie brand that’ll probably go out of business next month with my one decent pair of tailored trousers.
It’s all about finding your personal ratio. I happen to autumn around 60/40 Rich Mum dreaming/Hot Daughter vibes.
My husband tells me that’ll shift dramatically in my 50s, when I’ll be full-on Rich Mum.
Maybe you’re 100% Hot Daughter, millennial priorities and all.
No judgment either way, you do you. But take notes from both sides of the spectrum.
Spice up that Hot Daughter whimsy with a touch of Rich Mum tradition. Or learn to appreciate a well-made coat from watching Hot Daughter’s experiment with every fast fashion trend under the sun. Speaking of my Dad, I tried to explain Rich Mums vs.
Hot Daughters to him the other day over our monthly phone call. “What you’re saying,” he finally replied after about three minutes of me ranting, “is that people are just dressing like rich folks and thinking it’s new?” Dude. If only. What he (and many of you probably reading this) is missing is the balance.
The perfect clashing of Hot Daughter trendiness with Rich Mum tradition. Learning from each other, even when you don’t realise you are. Hot Daughters teach us that wearing head-to-toe neutrals isn’t ALWAYS a good look.
Rich Mums teach Hot Daughters that sometimes, basics truly are best.
