Folk Nostalgia

Folk aesthetics, rooted in the folk (or ‘the people’), has historically existed outside of the fabrics of formal institutions. Reserved consciously or unconsciously through customs, tales, and cultural practices, folklore has historically reflected a continuity between socio-cultural customs of the past and present. Every culture holds a zone of remembrance, and returns to aesthetics of the past, such as the return to folklore, is characterised by this cyclical revisitation of common tradition. In this context, folk traditions , existing outside formal institutions and rooted in the practices of the people, emerge as powerful vessels of continuity. 

Their revival in an age of increasing anonymity signals a broader desire to reconnect with community and ancestral frameworks, offering a counterpoint to modern disconnection by re-engaging with the communal and the tactile. Reimagined by a new generation of artists, reviving old textures, hymns, and acoustic sounds, folk aesthetics serve as a vital lens for understanding how tradition might coexist with modern life, as well as depicting a deeper collective desire to recontextualise relics of the past within our contemporary landscape.

In fashion, designers are reinterpreting folk through a contemporary lens. Chopova Lowena, with their virtuosic patchwork skirts and hybrid garments, epitomises the blend of folklore and punk, drawing on Bulgarian traditions and British school uniforms, while Dilara Findikoğlu, Edward Crutchley, and Preen blend folkloric and esoteric references within the flair of high romance. Mesh and lace are juxtaposed with mediaeval silhouettes and ceremonial garments: a uniform for the contemporary folklorist. Greek designer Di Pesta crafts wet dripping Grecian robes worn by the likes of Bella Hadid, FKA Twigs and Doja Cat, who contribute to the brand’s own ancient Greek symposium, rife with mythological references, and theatricality. 

Emerging designers like Tilda Fuller blend the jester-esque element of the folkloric. The childish whimsy of folktale lends itself to the Fuller’s webs of harlequin, lace and queen of hearts regalia, while Eden Tan’s chrome breastplates and endless flow of fabric, both plaid and denim, reimagines mediaeval cloaks used to wade through the forests. British designer Rabbit’s print design uses emblems from folk history nestled between rows of rabbits and loose ribbons, alongside silken corsets. 

Designers Gracey Owusu-Aguemang and TJ Finlay embody the earthier side of folk: a return to textures grounded in the earth, moss-eaten bodices and a focus on regenerative fashion. Owusu masterfully blends Afro-futurism with her folkloric designs, impressively cultivating her own regenerative cotton in Zambia. Here, folk aesthetics and ecological care go beyond theoretical concepts, becoming seamlessly integrated into her design practice. This holistic approach highlights her commitment not just to aesthetic innovation but to sustainable, ethical craftsmanship, where tradition and future-oriented visions intersect.

Similarly, Polina Osipova reimagines visions of the old world. Using the earth as her medium, Osipova crafts a mediaeval armoured breastplate made from bark –– fusing notions of ecological preservation with protection, she reinterprets historical forms to reflect contemporary concerns, where the natural world and human-made defences coexist.

The reimagining of folk elements – Victorian silhouettes, pagan symbols, and handcrafted embellishments – speaks to a hunger for grounding in a time of uncertainty. The folk aesthetic, with its raw, tactile qualities, feels like an antidote to digital overload. This shift isn’t confined to visual art and fashion; the music scene echoes this trend with the rise of musicians like The Last Dinner Party, a London-based band whose aesthetics capture the duality of dark folk: nostalgia and ‘70s rock grandeur reimagined within the context of queerness, girlhood and pop or glam rock ballad. Their onstage aesthetic (corsetry, flowing silks, and lit candles) is designed to seduce, and seduce they do, as dozens of crazed white-linen-dressed girls, and surprisingly onslaughts of old-school leather vested bikers, flock to their concerts, ready for their shared midnight prayer. 

Emerging folk artists like Damsel Djenaba, Maria Dearest, Wildwood Daddy, and Divine Earth follow a similar path, reviving old-instruments or reimagining classical mediums — from the cello, violin, and omnichord, with folkloric and ritualistic undertones, their siren songs recall American folk, with eerie dissonance and haunted instrumentation. A notable revival of streaming folk classic such as Bridget St. John, the iconic Wicker Man score, and Vashti Bunyan’s Just Another Diamond Day, and The Trees reflects a growing fascination with folk aesthetics across media. 

This renewed interest also extends to film, with folk-horror becoming increasingly prominent as a genre this year from films like Starve Acre, The Severed Sun, and Bramayugam, following classics like Penda’s Fen (1974), The Wicker Man (1973), Valerie and Her Week of Wonders (1970), Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971), and Cry of the Banshee (1970). Characterised by its use of folk religion, paganism, and rural Britain, folk-horror speaks to the anxieties of fractured identities, environmental degradation, and the tension between modern and ancient worldviews.

As folklore connects communities through storytelling, one could argue that all films possess folkloric elements. However, folk-horror as a sub-genre fully embodies the essence of folk by delving into the primal tensions between tradition and modernity, nature and civilisation. Through its focus on isolation, rural settings, and the resurfacing of pagan motifs, folk-horror becomes a vehicle for magnifying the unease that arises from confronting ancient rituals and belief systems in a contemporary world, while also addressing the anxieties of our fragile relationship with nature. 

Film critic Adam Scovell argues that folk-horror’s exploration of landscape and isolation takes on heightened significance in the context of the climate crisis, where ancient fears about survival and ecological balance are deeply resonant, reflecting the precarious state of the natural world.

The resurgence of folk aesthetics across art, culture, fashion, and film is thus not merely a passing trend, but a profound response to societal upheaval. Emerging during the pandemic and enduring amidst ongoing global crises, this revival taps into a yearning for continuity between the ancient past and an uncertain future. By reclaiming tactile, communal practices, folk aesthetics provide a cultural anchor in turbulent times, reflecting deep anxieties around isolation, fractured communities, and ecological instability, countering the alienation of hyper-modernity with a return to rooted, slower modes of existence.