The starting pistol had not sounded and yet there they were, perched delicately atop coiffed 'dos at a surprising number of recent runway shows: tiny, tight skullcaps that looked heck of a lot like the headgear that swimmers stretch across their noggins before leaping into the water. Michael Phelps, your thoughts?
Between those and all the face-scrunching hoods that resemble wetsuit hoods (also wildly prevalent), it's become as clear as chlorinated water that, come next winter, swimcapcore is the move.
If that sounds silly, it's 'cuz it is. Embrace it, like a flamingo-shaped pool floatie. But don't hold your breath on diving in: there's ample precedence for swimcapcore to make a splash.
It's certainly not wilder than wearing an extra set of ears, anyways, and that's now de rigueur.
The locus point of swimcapcore, as it so often is for trends these days, was Prada.
Prada is so painfully, perpetually ahead of the curve that fads suddenly spring forth from its seasonal collections in the same way that Athena, goddess of wisdom, burst from Zeus' skull, fully-formed and ready to dictate good taste.
In Milan, at its Fall/Winter 2024 menswear show, Prada flavored its boxy suiting and neon-hued sweaters with a dash of sea salt, topping nearly every look with swim cap-style headgear and knitted wet suit hoods.
The occasional captains hats made clear a yo-ho-ho motif but those two aforementioned styles really ruled the day: the bubbliciously embossed skullcaps and the touch-'em-soft wool balaclavas.
Most of the other designers who showed during Fashion Week didn't dive into this sorta haberdashery, though Rick Owens presented some similarly thick hoods in Paris.
It was during an otherwise sleepy New York Fashion Week that swimcapcore barely came up for air.
Though a surprise appearance from Beyoncé the cowgirl nearly stole its thunder, Luar's runway presentation still served much fashion food for thought, including several shrunken skullcaps.
At buzzy designer Melitta Baumeister's show, little hats barely clung to models' parietal bone as scuba hoods framed faces and ears.
In the context of all these teensy toques, those hoods really began to look a lot less like skiwear and a lot more like diving gear, even at shows where the swim caps were absent.
For instance, at a newly revitalized Tory Burch, fluid hoods of the tie-up-and-go variety demonstrated the design's daily driver utility. Swimcapcore ain't just for Olympic-sized swimming pools.
And, at Peter Do's Helmut Lang, the New York shiesty blossomed out of a ribbed sweater, zipping up into scuba proportions.
This is where it's important to distinguish the factors that actually define swimcapcore. It's not like you've gotta wear neoprene (thankfully).
In fact, swimcapcore isn't even really that nautical at all.
We're talking about skullcaps of occasionally unexpected make and hoods that cover the head and sometimes the face, effortless flair indicative of the wearer's stylistic adventurousness. They provide something slightly statement-y and sometimes sorta sporty up top à la Frank Ocean's inimitable Arc'teryx beanie.
Like I said earlier, there's at least some precedence for the rise of swimcapcore. It's born of the Y2K-ish fascinations with knit skullcaps, wherein tiny trek headgear and garish Ed Hardy beanies lend a dose of shocking color to otherwise ordinary outfits.
These little hats are easy accessories that do exactly what accessories are supposed to do: accessorize. No-brainers that barely cover the brain.
Young designers, like Poche and Juliet Johnstone, have already been serving this niche for some time with approachable designs that lean into aughts nostalgia.
And balaclavas, well, they're as old as cold weather.
Looking at all this, you could argue that Swimcapcore has existed in some form for a while. That's fair. But what's new is that the look is being codified. Driven by prgressive fashion brands, this taut headgear has taken a turn for the stylish.
This is no mere hipster beanie: it's short on purpose. It's slimmed down. It's zipped-up. It's technical. It's snug enough to sit underneath a pair of goggles. It's knitted not of stretchy jersey but thick-gauge wool or barely-there gauze.
It's an evolution, not a revolution.
But in an ironic inverse of human development, this evolution is a return to the water.
