'Drab'. 'Yawn-inducing'. 'Next, please'.
The inflamatory comments under the first-look photos of American Love Story, aka the new show said to chronicle the relationship between celebrity couple John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy, are well…quite brutal. The show is a latest instalment in Ryan Murphy’s glossy anthology canon—alongside the likes of American Horror Story and Glee, and is under the scanner for a supposedly graceless entrance into the cultural conversation.
You see, the stakes are very high here. The tragic couple is touted as the most stylish and highly-shipped couple of all time. After more than 25 years of their untimely demise because of the ill-fated plane crash–even Gen Z girls with no established knowledge of their political legacy still curate cute edits and Pinterest boards dedicated to them. Me included. They were purveyors of ‘quiet luxury’ even before the person who thought of clubbing the two terms together was born.
Naturally, in the fashion department, style geeks and historians are expecting it to tick certain elements off their list. For those unaware, Carolyn used to be a fashion publicist at Calvin Klein in the early and mid 90s, after she was noticed by a future higher-up because of her pristine sense of style and grace. What a dream! The couple met in ‘92 and quickly became the most photographed people that year–with paps lining up to click them from every angle, every hour of the day. Where they ate, where they shopped, where they fought–everything became a headline. Essentially, they were a big deal.
She was rarely seen without her Yohji Yamamotos and Prada separates. Her wardrobe whispered luxury; it never shouted. So imagine the horror when Murphy’s televised rendition introduced her in a crumpled tan coat and a copper slip skirt that belongs in the clearance bin.
The volcanic backlash is however, mostly centred less on the narrative arc and more on the stylistic betrayal of Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy. For the uninitiated, Carolyn wasn’t just John F. Kennedy Jr’s other half—she was the cool, impenetrable pillar of 1990s American elegance. She was rarely seen without her Yohji Yamamotos and Prada separates. Her wardrobe whispered luxury; it never shouted. So imagine the horror when Murphy’s televised rendition introduced her in a crumpled tan coat and a copper slip skirt that belongs in the clearance bin. The misstep has been amplified online, to the nines.
Any series attempting to resurrect Carolyn's legacy owes her more than a few generic ‘90s references and some sad tailoring. She deserves better.
People are calling it an aesthetic betrayal. A watered-down version of quiet luxury. And it's not just the lifeless outerwear, even Carolyn's hair colourist has spoken out regarding the curiously off-tone hair, which is obviously falling flat. She's also seen donning a pair of Converse, the intention to modernise her is obvious, but the result feels rather unsettling. But here’s the thing: Bessette-Kennedy wasn’t just stylish—she had taste. An ineffable kind of taste that can’t be fabricated with a few mood boards and a vintage filter. Let me just say, style is not simply content; it’s character. But in 2025, we're seeing the downfall of it all.
Any series attempting to resurrect Carolyn's legacy owes her more than a few generic ‘90s references and some sad tailoring. She deserves better. Better than what she got in life. And certainly, less polyester.