In recent years, Americana, in all its denim, gingham, workwear and bandana-wrapped glory, has seen a resurgence – a trend driven by young people flaunting American flag sweaters on TikTok, devoted Love Story audiences, and runways commenting on both sides of the congressional divide. At the same time, the United States is deeply divided, with political polarisation at its highest point in decades. So, at a moment when many are struggling to take pride in being American, why are Americana aesthetics seemingly everywhere?

Americana has arguably never been more central to popular culture than it has been in recent years, from country music dominating the charts like never before to artists like Addison Rae and Lana Del Rey embracing cut-off shorts, cowboy boots and the occasional American flag motif. Recently, both artists have leaned even further into the aesthetic, with Rae’s Lucky Brand collaboration and Del Rey’s sound getting the full country treatment on her upcoming album, Stove.

There is also no denying the impact Hulu’s Love Story, a dramatisation of the relationship between John F Kennedy Jr and Carolyn Bessette, has had on the public’s relationship to politics and fashion. By reigniting our fascination with the Kennedy dynasty, the show has prompted renewed interest in classically American brands like Calvin Klein and J.Crew, merging the worlds of the Fashion District and DC.

The American flag has traditionally been more closely associated with conservatives, who place a greater emphasis on nationalism. The stars and stripes are ubiquitous at Trump rallies, and were wielded by rioters on January 6 alongside the libertarian Gadsden flag (“Don’t Tread on Me”) and the Confederate flag — two more blatant symbols of division. But in recent years, progressives have attempted to re-embrace the aesthetics of Americana, asserting that the iconography of the United States belongs to them, too.

To sceptics, this might warrant a reaction along the lines of, “Really? Right now?” A Pew Research study conducted in 2025 found that “A negative response to national pride is particularly common for the U.S. compared to other countries”, which, in the United States, clearly runs along partisan lines. According to Nancy Deihl, a fashion historian and current chair of the Department of Art and Art Professions at New York University, this is because Democrats want the flag to mean something to their side, too.

“The Republican party has made a big deal of the American flag, but the reality is it doesn’t belong to just one party,” says Deihl. “If you think about fashion and entertainment, there are people who are sympathetic to both sides of the aisle in both those industries; however, I would argue they might skew more Democratic and even progressive. This idea that we’re going to unabashedly dress, talk, and style ourselves – embracing an American look is a little bit of ‘taking it back’.”

This more progressive, Democrat-leaning vision of America is reflected in a series of brand collaborations staged in Los Angeles diners. The mingling of high and low — outfits with price tags in the hundreds worn in a casual setting — is inherently American. The United States has what Deihl describes as a “heritage of workwear”, seen in American brands such as Carhartt, Dickies and Levi’s. However, due to global interest and overseas manufacturing, these pieces are not as affordable as they once were, resulting in the familiar irony of a white-collar guy in a blue-collar jacket. Even the diner, that great democratic symbol of American life, has become more expensive, though not yet entirely exclusive.

Biz Sherbert, a writer and host of the fashion podcast Nymphet Alumni, has encountered this sentiment among twenty-somethings online, at the mall, on university campuses, and across the streets of Manhattan. “I've seen that a lot of young people feel like their political affiliations are a bit separate from their aesthetic choices,” she says. Internet-savviness plays a role here, too. “You see someone wearing an American flag bikini and a raccoon hat in Downtown New York, and because you know that style is a bit more trend-driven or emerging, they are kind of playing with those things in a way that isn't as literal,” says Sherbert.

In Dazed’s Autumn 2025 issue, Chavarria stated that the American dream looks like “the fight for the right to exist”. The SS25 show for his eponymous brand reclaimed the US flag for immigrants, including his spin on polos and a red, white and blue half-zip that reads, “América”, drawing inspiration from “the people who work the jobs that make this country run”. Chavarria’s success shows that many Americans are eager to embrace the more diverse, inclusive identity his work represents.

Fashion campaigns, music, TV and film have long attempted to understand what it means to feel at home in the United States, and this moment in American history is no exception. Through Americana, some young people seem to be suggesting that the bleakness of the current moment does not have to mean relinquishing hope – or surrendering national identity to those who claim it most loudly.