Spend enough time in Brooklyn, say, or its West Coast cousin, Silver Lake, and you’ll recognize the garden-inspired outfit: a boxy canvas chore coat, loose cotton trousers, and no-fuss rubber clogs. Easily spotted at trendy brunch spots and natural wine bars, it’s become something of a de facto uniform for a certain slice of hip, young urbanites—and hardly any of them are proficient in seed planting. 

Indeed, these garden-adjacent workwear silhouettes in muted earthy tones, crafted from heritage fabrics, have made their way into the closets and psyches of Millennials and Gen-Z who have little to no experience tilling the land. Buzzy contemporary labels like Todd Snyder, Margaret Howell, and Evan Kinori have picked up on the trend, offering these styles for tapped-in tastemakers. Brands like Fendi and Dior have presented runway collections inspired by gardening clothes (Christian Dior was a noted flower-lover). In upstate New York, the shop Gardenheir, which makes pocketed smocks and colorful clogs made for mucking around, started selling out of their wares, mostly scooped up by residents of bigger cities. As The New York Times said of this budding (heh) trend, “fashion and gardening are as intertwined as bougainvillea climbing a trellis.” 

Why this look, and why now? In our era of endless social media feeds, AI algorithms, and work notifications, the garden—and by extension, its gear—offers a much-desired antidote: a slower, grounded, analog way of life. It’s a break from smartphones and a chance to, quite literally, touch grass. “There’s something very grounding about a garden,” Bradley Seymour, the designer of the outdoorsy brand Rovi Lucca, told Esquire. “Especially in a moment when so much feels fast, digital, and abstract.”

The pandemic helped hasten this burgeoning movement. During COVID-era lockdowns, many younger adults invested more in their home environment, often to bring a bit of the great outdoors inside—balconies, fire escapes, mini raised beds. Gardening was no longer just for the country estate but for urban millennials who tend to their beloved apartment-bound monstera as they would a pet or child. Fashion is reflecting that shift: Even if your “garden” is a windowsill or terrace, your outfit can still channel countryside utility.

Additionally, the embrace of gardenesque apparel offers up a corollary to the “gorpcore” movement—technical sportswear made for outdoor athletic pursuits, with a minimalist, elegant approach. “Garden workwear” is getting its moment in the sun and being repurposed as a lifestyle look, not just for functional labor.

While some may roll their eyes at this phenomenon—desk-bound corporate workers cosplaying pastoral horticulturists—it actually flips a previously-held paradigm. Once, a designer suit and corner office were the aspirational goals of the middle class, but suddenly, fresh air, wide open spaces, and having one’s hands in the dirt symbolize a new freedom for the computer class. These outfits are a uniform of ambition for those who have soured on the corporatized American Dream of yore.

Part of this aesthetic’s popularity is its utility. Flower beds or not, who couldn’t use some extra pockets? In our age of athleisure and synthetic fabrics, isn’t an elegantly relaxed silhouette and natural fibers a wonderful return to form? Workwear, which is at the heart of the gardening look, has long been a mainstay in fashion circles, because of its practicality and humble elegance. Think of Monty Don, the popular British horticulturist and host of the TV show Gardener’s World, who would shuffle among his rows of flowers in his beautifully threadbare pants, suspenders, and chunky sweaters. 

“Real” gardening practitioners and horticulturists benefit from this movement as well. Those who enjoy some time planting and pruning have options that marry functionality and style—things that can be worn while tending their slivers of paradise, and then out to the market, to dinner, and beyond. 

Ultimately, the gardener’s newfound style status feels like a quiet rebellion dressed in twill and canvas. To dress like a gardener—even if you’ve never touched a trowel—is to project care, patience, and purpose. It signals a desire to nurture rather than consume, to grow something rather than simply buy it. In that sense, GardeningCore isn’t just a fashion trend; it’s a fantasy of renewal—one that reminds us, amid all the noise and screens, that life still blooms best when we slow down long enough to tend it.