There are series that mark an era, not only in their narrative, but in the way they capture the zeitgeist. The White Lotus is undeniably one of them. Since its launch in 2021, Mike White's series has been weaving, season after season, a human fresco where privilege, hypocrisy and the excesses of high society intersect. But through its increasingly decadent plots, one element has become a character in its own right: fashion. A wardrobe that not only dresses, but reveals, nuances and exacerbates. In season 3, shot on Koh Samui, Thailand, the protagonists' wardrobes become social mirrors, tools of satire and, paradoxically, triggers of desire.
Style as mask and revealer
" Quiet luxury? Very little for us." This phrase from Alex Bovaird, the series' head costume designer, sums up the aesthetic intention of this new season. There's no question of tone-on-tone or bourgeois discretion here. Every character shouts out their status, their malaise or their disconnection through their clothes. Ostentation is not an accident; it's method.
Victoria Ratliff, played with delicious irony by Parker Posey, embodies this posture to perfection. Draped in a Banana Republic shirtdress, Swaine London scarf draped over her shoulders and Gucci Bamboo bag clutched tightly to her body, she is the epitome of neo-colonial luxury in the midst of an existential crisis. "I imagined the Ratliffs' looks as if they were straight out of a Ralph Lauren catalog," confides Bovaird. A frozen, almost off-the-ground elegance that rejects the warmth, culture and disorder of Southeast Asia. Here, the dress is a shell.
A showcase for designers and brands
Far from being a mere stylistic effect, The White Lotus unfolds a sensitive cartography of the world of contemporary fashion. Zimmermann, Loewe, Ciao Lucia, Alemais, Delvaux, Tara Matthews, Rachel Comey, Southern Tide... The series becomes a showroom in motion, an open-air exhibition space where every shot becomes a showcase. Costumes subtly interact with landscapes - those of Thailand, but also those of the characters' inner selves.
This is particularly true of Chelsea (Aimee Lou Wood), whose wardrobe seems to have been collected on her travels: crocheted dresses from Goa, parrot-print skirts by Loewe, JW Anderson bags, vintage sunglasses by Jacquemus. She wears her clothes like a life story. Nothing is posed, everything is lived. A textured subjectivity that echoes the approach of the Jacquemus house, which designed several bespoke pieces for the season - a pink dress, a transparent sarong, a sparkling striped skirt. Here, fiction becomes a catalyst for real desire, and the ephemeral gallery of the film set becomes part of the market.
T-shirts with elite codes
But this phenomenon extends beyond the small screen. On platforms like Etsy or Amazon, another form of expression is emerging: that of popular détournement. T-shirts with slogans ("Piper, no!", "Drink Myself to Sleep", "Pineapple Suite"), screen prints with the series' official logo, or even tributes to Parker Posey. These pieces, often priced under €40, recycle the series' imaginary world in a parodic yet affectionate register.
This spontaneous merchandising reflects an ambiguous relationship with luxury. Viewers re-enact, in their own way, the fantasy of a White Lotus hotel (hopefully without the homicidal aspect), swapping Loewe caftans for ironic T-shirts. In short, they virtually visit the series' boutique hotel, donning clothes that are more pop cultural appropriation than niche fashion.
Between social satire and the aesthetics of desire
If The White Lotus is so appealing, it's undoubtedly because it combines two rarely balanced approaches: biting criticism and visual refinement. Under the Koh Samui sun, bodies sweat, secrets ooze, but dresses remain impeccable, polo shirts perfectly ironed, moccasins well polished. This tension between the visible and the invisible, between appearances and intimacy, finds its climax in the silhouettes.
Saxon Ratliff (Patrick Schwarzenegger), a cretinous heir in his Southern Tide uniform, seems disguised as a low-cost version of Roger Federer. Piper, in her Brooke Shields-inspired Ralph Lauren dresses, desperately tries to escape her family's materialism by displaying... another form of privilege. Even Belinda (Natasha Rothwell), the only survivor from previous seasons who came here to work, swaps her uniform for Verandah caftans whenever she can. Style becomes language, and every look an emotional palimpsest.
From reality to fiction: fashion that reflects our times
What's most fascinating about The White Lotus is its ability to reflect the complexity of our relationship with clothing. In a world where we consume both products and symbols, the series offers an acute reading of our contradictions. We want refinement without boredom, irony without cynicism, beauty without price. Clothes become the receptacle of this paradox: desirable but denounced, exhibited but mocked.
And perhaps that's where the aesthetic strength of this series lies: in transforming a simple resort in Thailand into a living art gallery, an ephemeral contemporary art gallery, where each textile piece becomes an artifact of the human comedy.
