From Runways to Red Carpets, Waistbands Are Sliding Down

During Milan Fashion Week, ’90s supermodel Kate Moss closed Demna’s debut show for Gucci. While that sentence alone is iconic—Moss is largely retired and rarely walks shows anymore—what made the moment truly memorable was what she wore.

Sensually sauntering down the catwalk in a floor-length sparkly gown, the look appeared elegant from the front. But from the back, the dress revealed an open silhouette with a visible ‘double G’ thong, exposing a hint of low-back cleavage. It was the very definition of business in the front and party in the back.

While derrière cleavage isn’t a new trend, it has always pushed boundaries. Alexander McQueen experimented with silhouettes from his very first collection—famously forging the “bumster” style. Seán McGirr recently revived the silhouette for the McQueen Spring 2026 collection. But in today’s cultural climate, the look speaks differently.

Today, the female body is at the center of an aesthetic tug-of-war. BBL’s are being silently removed, medications like Ozempic and Mounjaro dominate beauty discourse, while the sleazy ’90s era “heroin chic” is creeping back into culture. Against this backdrop, it’s hardly shocking that waistlines are plunging, but whether that look can survive outside the controlled theatre of celebrity viral moments is another story.

Fashion analyst Mandy Lee (@oldloserinbrooklyn), who’s been tracking the trend since 2021, says she’s noticed it mostly appearing in high-visibility environments, like red carpets, typically worn by people with protective shields of fame and status. “I don’t necessarily think it’s the most wearable trend, but I think it is more of a car to carpet type of trend,” Lee says. It thrives in controlled environments designed for spectacle and photography—and this silhouette almost always guarantees chatter. Take Teyana Taylor’s Golden Globes look, which featured a low back cut-out accentuated with a diamond bow.

Looking back, Lee draws a parallel between last year’s unexpected body fixation: “toe cleavage.” In 2025, split-toe shoes and Havaianas flip-flops were the hottest summer trend. She speculates that if toes were the focus last year, 2026 might be the year of low-back cleavage, a view supported by Vogue, which crowned 2026 ‘the year of the crack.’

Her rationale is two-fold. First, the territory feels relatively unexplored, and second, the fashion industry is currently wrestling with what sexiness actually means. “Fashion right now is so confused, and fighting this push-pull with how conservatism and modesty have taken over a good portion of how fashion trends are made and adopted,” Lee says. “Playing with a body part you don’t usually see on display can feel subversive or risqué.”

Still, the trend remains more experimental than mainstream. “I think it reflects a broader cultural appetite for tension in fashion right now, for shock value and silhouettes that provoke a reaction rather than simply flatter,” says fashion writer Ashantéa Austin. The bumster achieves that goal, as it weaves elegance, humour, eroticism, and discomfort into one. “In an era when fashion images circulate instantly and compete for attention, designs that spark debate tend to travel the furthest.”

Designers, however, are toying with how far the silhouette can go beyond celebrity spaces. The style is percolating into the mainstream with brands like Diesel, Dilara Findikoglu, and Peachy Den creating shoppable bumster pieces. While widely seen on women, the London-based brand Di Petsa showed the style on men at its recent London Fashion Week show, featuring low-rise leather trousers with hip cutouts.

Meanwhile, fashion designer Masha Popova shares that “bum-centric” silhouettes have always been part of her brand’s DNA; it’s a design language she considers integral to her work. “My work has never been rooted in provocation. The intention is not to shock. It’s about silhouette, sensuality, and the way clothing frames the body,” she says. “It’s about making it look good and celebrating it.”

Still, much of the silhouette’s buzz lies in its unfamiliarity. As Austin explains, “lowering the waistline forces the viewer to confront a part of the body that clothing has traditionally been designed to conceal, which suddenly makes the encounter feel intimate, even vulnerable.” The result is a confusing mix of reactions. “Are you meant to laugh, feel disgusted, or feel aroused?” Austin muses. “That ambiguity is precisely what makes the silhouette so powerful. It exposes not just the body, but our anxieties about it.”